Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

The Mind And Fog And Memory


This is going to only happen,
to me and you believe.
A melody sang and the wind,
against me danced.

Is this place where anymore?
Somewhere else along?
A narrow winding road,
up and far beyond the trees.

One day that never moving came.
The past bridge to overcome.
Rachel has forgiven folded hands.

Submitted: Friday, March 15, 2013

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