Poetry no image

Published on March 17th, 2011 | by George Wyngaardt


Puddle in the sky

A bomb in the sky, clouds shaped like a skull

Thunderbolts rip through a scene that once seemed dull

Rusting leaves won’t seem to leave me alone

Tippa tappa ,crystal spheres finding their way home.

Thoughts that flood my mind and drench my eyes.

Shelter is key but yet I am locked in the skies

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George Wyngaardt

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