Where do people get their horses?
Where’s the start of the trail?
When people say they’ve reached the top,
Where did the victor begin?
And furthermore, where do we go?
Where’s the top of the sky?
The sky’s the limit, you say?
‘Cause it seems the sky’s been cut short
To the mountain top
Is there enough room for the world
On the mountain top?
Mountain tops have become tree tops,
And those became roof tops,
And those became table tops,
And those became fancy floors
And those became the ocean floors
But where does one begin
When you aspire to go beyond
The ocean’s horizons?
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts in Bold Ink
PoetryDuring these teen years, I am at the door way between childhood and adulthood. As I take these baby steps, I don't ever want to leave behind pieces of me that I'm discovering, nor should I ever leave behind who I must always be. As I close the door...
