London Poem: Day 220

25 March

Arms stretch over,
Reaching for something firm,
Tangible, But it isn’t there.
Entire civilizations crumble
While attempting to reach this,
And it’s there, but walls,
Unseen and sturdy,
Stand between, and the sad truth becomes:
I did it to myself.
I never saw the labour,
Or the intricacy,
I just waited to be touched.
We are here, together,
Before the walls
Ready to stretch again.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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