poetry by j matthew waters

pretense from the far side

our father who art in poetry
hallowed be thy (perplexing) rhyme

or so the thoughts of dementia do flow

despite seeing nothing in return
you continue to spread the spoken word
if only to yourself

why do most everyone agree the little ones
grow up too fast
(and not do anything about it)
whether they be shining bright
or falling into obscurity

and then there are those
perhaps fortunate
(or perhaps not)
having gained admission on the far side
one metered step at a time

march two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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