Poem about reality, and how it sometimes doesn’t stand still.
The scenery, beautiful
but familiar is becoming
background static
I’m remembering when
hills melted like ice cream
forests burst into green flame
cool energy radiating into space
People on the beach morphing’
from old to child and back
a cloudless sky becoming
geometery lessons
flowing sand inundating
the waiting tide
At times I miss reality
being malleable
like clay in the hands
of a deft potter
Currently there are no comments related to "Moving Targets". You have a special honor to be the first commenter. Thanks!
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!