In Wood's Conceding Of My Poem by james watkin
In Wood's Conceding Of My
In wood's conceding of my
Being lost, am found!
Just so nod, who seize by stealth.
Just so smirk who, like themselves
In shadows abound.
By this sense, stream-invoked, for
What possesses me
Of its droned voodoo. Whence on
And on, happy without cause!
Oddly worry-free!
I'm paraniod, that's my doubt.
Why not truly say
Here cushioned, and dozily
Looking up that green sky but
Hugs you where you lay!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/5/2024 10:13:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
