The poet is lost, he wanders
All over town, even going
Out to the countryside. He
Is sure he has left something
Somewhere but forgot
Where. What the poet is
Looking for is the perfect
Word to finish his poem.
Tag: wondering
Flying
One afternoon I was
Sitting in my house
Flipping channels on
On the TV, bored and
Wondering what else
There could be to life.
Then a force pulled
Me from my chair
And out the front
Door. I stood in the
Middle of the yard
And rose up slowly,
Over the tops of the
Houses and found I
Could go anywhere
I wanted to go–
Freedom!
Wordman of Alcatraz 