Myth
The old ones talk
of a mythical creature
that dwells behind the grey curtain.
They call it “sun”
and speak of it as if
they had seen it
with their own eyes.
What an impossible fable!
A white ball
that can breathe fire
and dry out
the soggy soil,
and that shines light,
brighter than this gloomy glow?
Shivering, we huddle
close to the speakers
as if their fairy tale
could warm us.
3/29/2018
Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2018
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