On a quiet stroll
down a leaf-dark lane,
I met a young man,
from the past.
He had meandered
through the weeks,
long before the shock
of life’s alarm clock
awakened him to face
the glare of awareness,
and the certainty
that his letters to the North Pole
would never be answered.
John Walter Taylor
© All rights reserved
18 March 2025
No comments:
Post a Comment