Book Worms. Poem by Lihle Shezi
Book Worms.
The books o'er those
wrecked tables encompassed
by torn cagoule are my silo,
I encave my soul with their
powerful words.
Now speak sire, who do i master?
Did you not singe my tongue
your mark?
My every speech is clay.
And your every wish is a bird.
You speak with clouds
as if they were your sons,
Yet you fear blue birds
like all book worms.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: natural
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4/25/2024 5:52:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
