The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

No Finish Line

the slow snail the fast fly now taunts,
          his flight speed he boastfully flaunts,

                 so he zips and zaps low and high,
                 in a spider's web doomed to die.

          to each his time, to each his pace,
          there really is no rigid race,

                 you sprint your way and I crawl mine,
                 there really is no finish line !
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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Quigley Avatar
September 19, 2011 at 12:07 PM
Interesting read Romeo. Thanks for sharing
Naces Avatar
May 29, 2019 at 11:57 PM
Thanks, Bob.
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The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace