|
The Urge
At times, he said, he had
An unexplainable urge
To reach out and touch
The sun,
In spite of the obvious
Consequences,
Draw it close and be
Swallowed by the heat,
The fire, the passion.
As his worker led him
Away he glanced over
His shoulder and hollered,
They tell me I`m crazy,
I whispered,
You`re not crazy buddy,
I get a similar urge,
I get a similar urge.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
|
|