Real
it is like the old stone
hiding at the back of the hill in times
times that are but for fantasy.
it was another glimpse of her
a move to hold her
ring hands of gold treasure...
just at time
it was time...
a time up...
O! it was the dream of the memory.
Copyright © Innocent Ododo | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment