Vicarious
The images come into view,
so crisply, sharp displayed;
Soon, but an after-image glow,
as they begin to fade…
If blue’s the hue, the story ends -
you wake up in your bed,
but Wonderland and rabbit-holes
lurk in the shadows red.
Vicarious, this online life,
soft edges, hard construed.
Yet, disconnected from the world,
life slips away from you.
For those who plant the garden rows,
this story’s incomplete.
When you plant shovels in the ground,
most times, dirt’s underneath.
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
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