Voices

Do you hear the voices?
I do.
They echo from concrete walls.
Where are they from?
Are they made by You?
A dull drone of activity.
Like sea shells on my ears,
the muffled roar of the ocean
reminds me of the voices.
Its nothing new,
they have always been there
a distant drum which
I march to.

by Heath Harrington

Other poems of HARRINGTON (16)

Comments (1)

it's always good to march to the beat of your own drum....