Sometimes

A poem for the sometimes …

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: jeronimoooooooo Alado via photopin(license)

Sometimes the illusions are real,
Sometimes they are the only thing that matters
In the hurly-burly of this world.
Sometimes the scream is the only sound,
And it goes round and round forever.

To the deeps and to the heavens,
To the forest and the oceans.
Round and round in never ending motion
Powered by imagination –
Driven by a dream.
 
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 27 February 2018

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