Tom W. Timms

(Kirkby in Ashfield, UK)

The Way - Poem by Tom W. Timms

Let me go quietly
Not forced to see life through to the last painful gasp
No long and protracted parting
For there is no virtue in pain
And I have seen before the unpleasant lingering
Let go the hold you have on my hand
and dream I'll race, young again, across the sand.
Hand Gliding - No! The day I visited Baslow
A famous Derbyshire place
I heard a passing swallow say
"Hello-Hello What's this then?" "Is it a feathered migrant bird"
"A flying dart" - "a bald eagle hen"
"Or a Russian sputnik that I've heard??" Their is a need in modern man
To reach towards creation
So I watch a brave young lad
Take a fool hardy jump into obliteration The laugh he gave at my concern
Told me I had alot to learn
About jumping out into space
From the ledge of a cliff top face He winked his eye as he flew bye
Soaring high into clouded sky
The first unpowered flight
I ever saw ("Oh My")


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Read poems about / on: dream, pain, sky, life



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003



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