The Eighth Lap

jo

I'm marching 'round these walls
For the eighth time
But they're showing no cracks
And my trumpet is blocked
With sand

Some days I've seen a brick fall
Some nights I've seen small crumbles
But all holes have been filled
Quick-setting plaster
Reversing weakness
To strength

Each lap is the same path
And what was fresh has staled
With the wild wolves
Returning to sniff my tracks
As the sun disappears

Oh to enter the city gates
And find safe shelter

Oh to join the wondrous song
I hear from here
Outside

  • Author: jo (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 14th, 2021 04:50
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 24
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Comments1

  • Doggerel Dave

    Perhaps you are better off out there - providing you can avoid the wolves. The song may not be so wondrous when you are in amongst it.
    Clear picture painted.
    Take care .

    • jo

      Thanks for reading my poems and making comments DD. 🙂



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