Hovered Poem by Scott J. Shepard
Hovered
Heavens apprehension took toward the
temperament placings of a Dove.
Disposition lies in a grave yard.
And pigeons feed on Central Park.
Where you believe I should be and
where we should see the time
fly by like the carcass crow creeps.
The propriety of where I'll dive
today is chosen like bloodstone.
I am the undertone.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Life
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5/1/2024 10:20:07 PM # 1.0.0.1119
