The wren committing sparrow crimes
in torn up trash is glad to find
little grown-ups made up signs
on yellow paper with blue lines.
The careful lion commands esteem,
his ferocity not always what it seems.
roar of defiance now seldom rings;
he sleeps alone, perchance to dream.
The man explores his waking thoughts,
should wait for rest but he cannot;
for fear of being by destiny caught,
selling what he so recently bought.
The wind approaches carefully,
as if afraid what it might see.
Or worse, ignored, by the whisper tree
it diminishes and turns to flee.
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Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: August 4th, 2024 23:49
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 45
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, LP2187
Offline)
Comments2
This poem reads so well in its rhythm and rhyme but more so each stanza has its metaphoric meaning nicely tucked away. Loved it
Thank you again. I'm seldom sure about things I post, but your insightful appraisals do encourage me.
Well crafted and powerful.
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