There's nothing here
A vacancy
A dead industrial mud bank
People in the far away sands throwing their fishing lines in
Trying to catch a dream
They don't realize how good they've got it
Sitting on a mud bank
The light trickling through a river birch
The grass feels so cool on the fingers
A barge with a house sitting on top of it
The house takes up half the barge
The other half is taken up with a green lawn spreading up to its bow
A man in bermuda shorts puffing a pipe happily mows his lawn as the river streams by
The barges talk to him in his sleep.
Poetry from the book {Bunny Hop} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas
No comments:
Post a Comment