Tim Carlson

Rookie (Australia)

My Country - Poem by Tim Carlson

Where I live grows a tree,
It has seen eons, and is infinite,
But the moss has grown,
And the borish brown of age
And experience, extinguish,
Even know,
The differences it has lived with,

Touched by few, my hand connects,
With the rough brown, scarred skin.
Her hand, of late, felt old.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 17, 2008



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