Me Is Me Poem by Sharron Stephenson

When the mintue passes a piece of the wind blows,
The hands of dreams into the darkness pit.
A pocket full of pennies rattles with the,
Shift in motions.

The colour of black and white fades to,
The gray of rain.
A cup of promies breaks when the time,
Of love bleeds.

The whispers hurt the power of secrets,
Which turns the memories into powder of snowand,
Restlessness.

Walk the path and say me is me right or,
Wrong i am me here strong and,
Proud