i am smaller than i remembered
and i am shrinking
fast
sometimes I need your
shoulders to see
over obstacles
over and out
across the plain
looking for enemies
circling us
Injun tribes
dirty Injuns on
dirty grey horses
the cat knocks over a glass
and I am too frail
too small
to get out of this
please
the phone is out of reach
and I can fit in my own pocket
I can ride on a cricket
This is a blog of some poetry I wrote at different times. Mostly it's about my broken heart.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
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