Don't let go of my hand,
As we rise to the lay of the land.
My feet plod slower,
Until they halt.
Without you,
I no longer wish,
To climb the mountain.
YOU ARE READING
Scribblings
PoetryWords arranged in a funny order. Poems about my view of reality and how my inner fantasy world colours it with strange tinges. I love discussions about concepts and ideas so please feel free to comment. © 2018 Brian Lynch
