Rush Poem by Sherylyn Knighten

Rush



You never know where you're going
At a dead run and gaining speed
Turning blindly around every curve
You rush past the little things
The important things
And end up missing it all
It's fleeting and fickle
And slippery at best
So just stop
And smell the sunflowers, baby

Friday, August 11, 2006
Topic(s) of this poem: baby
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Sherylyn Knighten

Sherylyn Knighten

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
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