Sore Dreams Poem by Kyle Shield Laster
Sore Dreams
I stretch and pop my spine
And am tempted to now whine
Of how I'll never ever scuttle
Across the sand that oceans trouble
While dripping, burning 'neath a sun
So bright and shining 'til its done,
But I'll give privilege to my days
Many visits, but brief stays
Among sore dreams, I store in stacks:
Birthed with the snapping of my back.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
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5/4/2024 3:05:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
