A straight narrow arrow flying right through
The nearly still air--how it barely blew.
I drew back my bow string,
Focusing on one thing.
Preparing to loose the quarrel,
Into the center of the barrel.
I relaxed my fingers; the arrow slipped past
Onward and onward--straight as a mast!
It struck full and true
And I turn to you
A smile on my face,
Not a hair out of place.
Proud if my first, very best shot.
Hoping my new-talent wouldn't be for not.
YOU ARE READING
Where We Never Look--The Forgotten Places
PoetryThis is a Poetry Book that I've been working on for almost a year. I write random poems when I'm inspired, so I hope you enjoy! #825 in Poetry November 24, 2016 #351 in Poetry November 26, 2016 (!!!!!!) #350 in Poetry November 29, 2016 #284 in Poetr...
