A Spark Poem by Jorge Alexandre
A Spark
Thy comfort read to me,
Thy life is good; thy fantasy,
The twisted lies and truths of earth,
We are nothing; we are dirt.
People tred and tred upon us,
As almost as we are monsters,
But thy bitter taste of winter,
Shall say no more; to flint.
To start a fire west;
And to end it with the east,
I hit the rocks together,
To spark in us forever.
Monday, March 11, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: coldness
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5/7/2024 9:20:48 AM # 1.0.0.1119
