In A Child's Running Spree Poem by james watkin
In A Child's Running Spree
Happiest, and thus most
Privileged to be
As forgetful of self
Of World's look, flashy.
Clear of thought, sunned of his
Own disposition
That what shapes for its dread
Shadowy, as blows
Storm-dark, there; left behind.
Well, not that he knows!
Monday, January 24, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: running,child
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5/5/2024 10:49:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
