New Life Poem by Buxton Shippy
New Life
He sees himself as evening
Without a shadow, in the city,
But truth be told
He's a radical light,
Glistening in the hearts of men.
How could he bend so low
When he has wings to fly?
Maybe it's the crowd
That shout so loud,
Beckoning him to fall.
Thankfully, he hears
A single voice,
Begging him to rise
And so he becomes morning,
Breathing new life.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: inspiration
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4/25/2024 2:49:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
