A Box of Soft Sheep’s Wool

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
Conclusion
To my day out
Studying yesteryear.

I hoped it would be like that
Forever,

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.

Poetry.net

4 Responses to “A Box of Soft Sheep’s Wool”

  1. blonderblondest Says:

    very good work

    love this

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

  2. dunstancarter Says:

    Cheers – much appreciated!

  3. I don’t like the seventh stanze because it breaks the flow for me–but honestly this poem is so good that it really doesn’t matter. 😀

    ❤ Lauren

  4. dunstancarter Says:

    The seventh is probably the weakest and I think the whole thing could do with one more draft if the truth be told. Glad you like it though – cheers!

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