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Modus
by Clara Mae GregoryThe Things were a means-
To make the memories
that marked our mentality
with Finite Bliss
forever in our minds.
The Things gave us wings
into the starry skies,
escaping from the aviary
of burdens
that weighted our spines. 12/18/2013 Posted on 12/18/2013
Copyright © 2026 Clara Mae Gregory
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gail Wolper on 12/27/13 at 09:04 PM Good one! very well written! |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 01/25/15 at 10:19 AM These things--accessories that sate acquisitiveness, unless given a purpose; whatever you wrote, I read material in the service of the spiritual, or something equally nebulous :>) |
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