Poem Hunter
MM ( / Camas, Washington, USA)


Poem By Maxinne Morris

There was no magic flute
To pipe his way,
Though he had far to go.
No sunset wanderings,
In the end.
No mound, no grave, no sign
That he was here.
But oh...the empty space,
It was hard for us to know.
In reaching out...
No hand to grasp.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes )

Other poems of MAXINNE MORRIS (4)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.