Grow With The Flow Poem by Madrason .

Grow With The Flow



Nobody ever blows
the sand from my eyes
when I run dry I run shy
lustily awaiting moist
from granting lips
nobody ever embraces my hips
my hair a thick forest
of cedar and silver-spar
my life prostrates
like a snail much to late
no time to waste or wait
for What
restless is the arid snake
trying to keep me awake
no one ever drips
some soft cool water
on my feet any-more
but my own last tear
when I cry
here at the end
of a road
-never been there before-
as I try to close
an unopened door
for whose sake
you suppose. M

Saturday, January 7, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: fun
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Madrason .

Madrason .

waalwijk netherlands
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