Forcing ways, burning stays Clever days will win some greys Hold on tight to your hair Clench your teeth - show no care. Waiting now and waiting then Calls ongoing - never end Burning heart longs apart Boxes grinning in the cart Thump-thump-drumming in the head Clam-clam-clamming our judgement Something's wrong in the clog Repeat jumping like a frog. Greyish-blue mass of air Hiding light from the fair Never ending circulation Rushing through this world's creation.
Slow Rush
Poetry by Szabina Keane
