Trickle
Lying still
Windswept
Held fast by the grime of years
The view never changes
Slowly you give to the wind and as the mountain of dirt succumbs
you drift without direction then stumble upon a friend
with minds alike you join forces to escape this filthy prison
running down, down ever faster with each new friend
at last to drip from the cill
Copyright © Nick Bagnall | Year Posted 2012
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