Nonsense 17 Poem by Phil Soar

Nonsense 17



I walked across a field of sunken treasure
Without a thought for things I trod upon
Someone had taken time for their own pleasure
To bury things their lives had brought along

Some day there will be someone who will find it
Hidden beneath the earth and stone en masse
Maybe someone on a summer evening
Having sat down for a picnic, on their ass!

Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: nonsense
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