Archive for December 17, 2008

A Box of Soft Sheep’s Wool

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 17, 2008 by dc

My hands were stuck deep
In a box of soft sheep’s wool,

As I stood in the mill
Soaking its history
And dreaming
Of a Kendall Mint Cake
To my day out
Studying yesteryear.

I hoped it would be like that

Not a worry
In the world,
A softness surrounding
Everything I touched,
A calmness
Slowly reigning supreme.

When we were children
We were told times were golden,
So we spat out and wrestled
All logic to the ground,

It was said our fresh minds
Could accomplish any dream,
The world was ours for the taking,
If we thought it all made sense,

We were benchmarked for big things,
(Well, some of us were),
We were let out of cages
And prayed for,

We were children of ego,
It mattered not if we were evil,
We were seagulls in flight,
We were capable of anything.

Look at us now,
Nothing has changed,
We kiss on the sky like it could fall any second,
We reckon this means we are still young.