Pigeon feet beside Two tiny soles: Befriending The dove, a child grasps, stepping In wet cement. Till it flies. And he remembers Dinner at six. Never knowing The past pursuit is now All the while Caught.
1 comment:
Anonymous
said...
You’ve given me a picture of my life. After clumsy pursuits, I stare after unattainable objects and am troubled with the fear that my life’s hunts are in vain. Little do I appreciate the imprints of my cemented loafers in the soft, moment-catching surfaces of time. Little do I remember what those pursuits might mean to the onlooker and to the Observer of all Time.
1 comment:
You’ve given me a picture of my life.
After clumsy pursuits, I stare after unattainable objects and am troubled with the fear that my life’s hunts are in vain. Little do I appreciate the imprints of my cemented loafers in the soft, moment-catching surfaces of time. Little do I remember what those pursuits might mean to the onlooker and to the Observer of all Time.
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