How I know I stand in line,
but it is not conformity
I have been cut and sewn
to resemble your notions
I try to stretch and fly
but I have been rooted
This line is a prison
but there are other inmates
Together perhaps we could fly
but for now, we strain at the roots
Carry On Tuesday
2 comments:
What fun this poem is. I once wrote a poem about shirts doing handstands - a similar scenario.
I like this.
curling and uncurling
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