Into every dusty corner
hidden crag
darkened recess
of this old man’s broken posture.
Crying to stand upright.
To be free
from the shackles of an uneasy adulthood,
forgetful of what it was
once
to be youth.
Into every dusty corner
hidden crag
darkened recess
of this old man’s broken posture.
Crying to stand upright.
To be free
from the shackles of an uneasy adulthood,
forgetful of what it was
once
to be youth.
PoemsofaDad 