Infants Become Skeletons
The value of something undermines
What we try to do here.
It lives and occurs, becomes the cord
Between the dreams you serve and the dreams
You fail to receive.
You see the people
In orbit of their
Origins.
As they lie down in their glue,
New for one more day.
And all the tears and smiles
For a chance of love,
From infant to wrinkes
And dust.
Laura Taylor
Wed 21st Sep 2011 11:24
Good poem - pouring out at the moment eh?