Stranger are those things today,
Were not perceived.

Stranger still,
Are events intended...
To send shock waves,
To stay and not leave.

And stranger are those philosophies,
People adapt to and keep.
Even though old these philosophies have grown,
Cold and frozen to the touch of one who holds.
Cold and frozen...
Is the stranger who beholds bold but old goals.

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Other poems of PERTILLAR (18127)

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