Sat at the picnic bench, outside
hot chocolate, between my gloves
knowing later this morning, they
will be wishing for me, not know
here wishing it could be better,
because it's never any different
maybe next year we'll feel free.
The dawn fog to eventually rise,
sleepily from the motorway road,
wet mist off a outside my visor,
if only I could travel any time,
I being careful what I wish for,
never dare to make a big change,
maybe time for me to change that
...
Comments
skinner_jennifer | November 1, 2011 - 10:24
Hi Kahdai,
this was a very thoughtful poem of trying to change,
but never being quite sure, whether you are doing the
right thing or not.
I think we've all felt like this at times.
Thankyou for sharing.
Jenny.
Silver Spun Sand | November 1, 2011 - 10:45
Jenny is right, Kahdai, a very wistful poem.
Tina;-)
Kahdai | November 13, 2011 - 19:08
thanks both :)