I mind my own
Sitting on a tree
Can spot a few below
Throw stones at me
Should I climb down
To meet the stones midway
Or pretend
They don't bother me
Till they go away?
Perched too far above
To meet their eyes
And reason
Would it help to step down
And fray their mission?
Storm clouds roll on
Thunder and lightning,
Strike dark and swift
Sticks and stones
Those hurt and bleed
Forever a torment
Within and around me
Not a moment’s peace
Wage an elusive fight
That nobody wins
YOU ARE READING
Grey Strokes
PoesíaThe color grey is an interesting shade - non-committal, on the fence, always on edge. The verses you find in this little book of poems are much like the color. Take them with a color of your choice and you will uncover some hidden truths or take the...
