My plan was to tie a small bunch of verses
to the memorial about what I have seen.
In memory of the dream
which lifted and carried
the whispering, tender
small questions and answers.
In memory of anger,
which boiled my blood,
when the watch's army
lay clammy on my foot.
Society reward with a stone for bread,
that the majority groaned in sorrow and in need.
No comments:
Post a Comment