This old one runs forever,
But does never move at all,
He has no lungs nor throat,
But still a strong and roaring call.
This call will stretch for miles,
But free he will be never,
He has neither hands nor fingers,
But he’ll hold on forever.
This eye will search for hours,
But to see there is no chance,
Sing he cannot,
but to his tune you’re sure to dance.
This dance will continue,
But he has no will,
He has no soul nor thoughts,
But yours he cannot kill.
This old one runs forever,
But never does move at all,
He has no lungs nor throat,
But can still rise and fall.
YOU ARE READING
The Pure, Simple, Truth.
PoetryLife isn't always the best thing. But we only get one. So here I am, making the most of it, trying my best to get everything i feel down into words so that i don't have to dwell on those feelings and thoughts anymore. My latest collection of poems...
