It’s a silver horse galloping past your window
the metamorphosis of past and future
stabled in your mind.
Images of tomorrow and yesteryear thrive
Emotions and hopes wither and die.
Our mothers wreak havoc; their knitting chaotic
Our fathers weakly admit they are wrong.
Our brothers and sisters without eyes
rely on their senses blind and bleeding
slipping through the piles of bodies
until they fall onto concrete floor 20 floors below.
Painted on smiles greet us wave us by
the great tombola in the sky, past wizened angels
and youthful crones. the old the meek the weak combined.
In my pencil case lives a troll. He hit. He hit. He hit.
In my mind lives the past and future and me.
Butterflies, Adam and Eve and hard men.
We are all waiting for our brethren, who never came.

by Andrew Watkins, Sept 2017

Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

Join our competition!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: