Poem in My Pocket
Sometimes it lies quietly
lurking in the corner
invisible if you look directly
at it
Sometimes it leaps
screaming, shouting
“Pay attention
to me
And sometimes it slithers
along, a snake in the grass
slippery and smooth
forked tongue flicking
in out
Yet, always it is there
in my pocket, tucked
in tightly, immoveable
As if I would want to
And yet, I must approach
it on its terms, only
on its terms, only
when I am deemed
worthy.
So, I am the poem
in my pocket’s
willing
porter
3 comments:
Yeah, I like this!
OK, we'll let you off for not being on prompt!
"And sometimes it slithers/along, a snake in the grass"
you must have big pockets!!
Thanks Andy!
And Derrick, my proverbial pockets are vast and varied! :)
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