frustration by Richard TrotterI cannot grasp
at a wonderful song,
nor can I taste
the red evening sky
and I cannot hear
the sound of yellow flowers,
never preserving a moment
of semi-contentment
inside a wooden box.
I cannot exist
as all of life itself,
and know every shining secret
inhaling infinity.
Instead I am a furious train
without a track.
08/19/2002
Author's Note: this is not one of my best but i wanted to repost it anyway.
Posted on 01/20/2004 Copyright © 2025 Richard Trotter
|