Dreams Of Wood...
Chopping with a swing,
Both hands,
Long axe you feel it,
Not thinking,
Mind wanders as logs split.
Winter is coming,
Your bones feel it.
Aunt Leona and Uncle Harold are too old.
Dad and I are not.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 08/10/2017
Rembrandt Sleeping - poem #31
Chopping with a swing,
Both hands,
Long axe you feel it,
Not thinking,
Mind wanders as logs split.
Winter is coming,
Your bones feel it.
Aunt Leona and Uncle Harold are too old.
Dad and I are not.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 08/10/2017
Rembrandt Sleeping - poem #31