|
Wild And Free
People come
And people go,
Fall into themselves
And one another,
Form cliques and groups
Like oil globbing on water,
Always separating in shake ups
Always globbing again,
A few,
A rare few
Sink into the silence
Of the night,
Paint and dance
And write,
In that place
Where the spirit flows,
Where ideas and thought
Roam wild and free.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
|
|