Feel
Are you sitting on the field of dreams.
The cattle’s running so vans are pulling.
Feel my eye the vision is inside of me.
Come on people stand firm it’s time again.
Fingers holding grace of land.
Pecking order finished so wait for your turn.
Wooden round thing washed again too many times.
Four little sticks what are they for, they going to blow away.
Close those eyes for god’s sake.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
