To get where
you are
is a stepping stone
a walk that is strewn with
the corpses of dead flowers
and the sound of
crows circling overhead
as if gathering before a storm.
You ask can I get there?
Can I save the flowers?
Or are they destined to be
crushed
dead
smashed
on the journey?
Oh yeah in the day
we see
we hear
We are bound to ears
tin
that shatter
as they hear
the screams
of dying flowers
Can you get there
from here?
I agree with Elenka, great poem and goreous photo!
Thanks! Ellie, your kind words were a great way to start today!
wow, I like this photos.
Thanks, Chicago is one of my all-time favourite cities!
Amazing Doc, I feel myself asking this question a lot.
It was my grandfather’s question, he asked it all the time as a are you sure about what you are doing kind of question.
A good combination of photo and poetry
Thanks! That was happenstance. The poem was written in my 20’s the picture was about 15 years ago.