The Men Who Come Behind
There's a class of men (and women) who are always on their guard—
Cunning, treacherous, suspicious—feeling softly—grasping hard—
Brainy, yet without the courage to forsake the beaten track—
Cautiously they feel their way behind a bolder spirit’s back.
If you save a bit of money, and you start a little store—
Say, an oyster-shop, for instance, where there wasn’t one before—
When the shop begins to pay you, and the rent is off your mind,
You will see another started by a chap that comes behind.
So it is, and so it might have been, my friend, with me and you—
When a friend of both and neither interferes between the two;
They will fight like fiends, forgetting in their passion mad and blind,
That the row is mostly started by the folk who come behind.
They will stick to you like sin will, while your money comes and goes,
But they’ll leave you when you haven’t got a shilling in your clothes.
You may get some help above you, but you’ll nearly always find
That you cannot get assistance from the men who come behind.
There are many, far too many, in the world of prose and rhyme,
Always looking for another’s ‘footsteps on the sands of time.’
Journalistic imitators are the meanest of mankind;
And the grandest themes are hackneyed by the pens that come behind.
If you strike a novel subject, write it up, and do not fail,
They will rhyme and prose about it till your very own is stale,
As they raved about the region that the wattle-boughs perfume
Till the reader cursed the bushman and the stink of wattle-bloom.
They will follow in your footsteps while you’re groping for the light ;
But they’ll run to get before you when they see you’re going right;
And they’ll trip you up and baulk you in their blind and greedy heat,
Like a stupid pup that hasn’t learned to trail behind your feet.
Take your loads of sin and sorrow on more energetic backs!
Go and strike across the country where there are not any tracks!
And—we fancy that the subject could be further treated here,
But we’ll leave it to be hackneyed by the fellows in the rear.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Related quotes
Following In Your Footsteps
(ian hunter/mick ronson)
Some folk leave courage,
Some folk leave you hope
Why am I out here hangin
Like a fool at the end o my rope
Some folk leave you wisdom,
Some folk leave you signs
You can never be sure
What went on before
Life is just a matter of time
Picture of you,
Clouding my view
Im following in your footsteps,
Tryin to make some sense of it all
Maybe its a sign of weakness,
But thats where my footsteps fall
Im following in your footsteps,
Tryin to hang on to your dreams
You never got what you wanted
So I never got what I need
Im following in your footsteps,
cos thats where the footsteps lead
Someone must have given me anger,
Someone must have given me hate
Or why would I stand here shakin,
When theres so many chances to take
Pictures of you,
Climb into view
Im following in your footsteps,
Tryin to make some sense of it all
Maybe its a sign of weakness,
But thats where my footsteps fall
Im following in your footsteps,
Watchin my children grow
Theyre following in my footsteps
Takin it on the road
Were following in your footsteps
cos thats where the footsteps go
Were following in your footsteps, yeah
cos thats where your footsteps go
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What The Heart Of The Poet Said To The 'Bulletin
Tell me not in future numbers
That our thought becomes inane,
That our metre halts and lumbers,
When the Wattle blooms again.
Lies of great men all remind us
We can challenge and restrain
Such attempts to bluff and blind us,
When the Wattle blooms again.
Therefore take our gage of battle!
Freedom reasserts her reign:
We are not dumb, driven, cattle
When the Wattle blooms again.
Doubtless ANSWERS, weekly, daily,
Adding to his heap of slain,
Feels a jar, when Nature gaily
Bids the Wattle bloom again.
Nocent censor! time thou learnest
All this contract may contain —
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
But the Wattle blooms again.
Time may change this loyal journal
From religious to profane,
But a rhythmic law eternal
Makes the Wattle bloom again.
Trust no Flossie, howe'er pleasant,
Sweeps are treacherous, totes are vain;
Banks and scrip are evanescent,
But the Wattle blooms again.
Cultivate no fair ideal;
Own no country-seat in Spain;
All these things must go to Sheol,
Whil'st the Wattle blooms again.
Czar, and Pope, and Dei Gratia
Pass like phantoms of the brain
Never so our bright acacia,
For the Wattle blooms again.
Thus you see, austere and lonely,
Sailing o'er Life's solemn main,
One great fact is certain only —
That the Wattle blooms again.
poem by Joseph Furphy
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Love 'em Or Leave 'em
Blowing'cross the universe
Like a shooting star that lost its way
Looking back with no regrets
Living tor what hasn't happened yet
Love 'em or leave 'em
No rhyme or reason
Break out to make out
No change in the season
Love 'em or leave 'em
Put out or get out
Simple survival
No more denial
Love 'em or leave 'em
Roller coaster flies oft the track
Hits you in the face, stabs you in the back
They Jake your right, leave nothing left
Steal you blind, your mind and leave you deaf
Love 'em or leave 'em
No rhyme or reason
State of the nation
Pure intoxication
Feel the vibration
The anticipation
Simple survival
No more denial
Dont wanna waste no time
I'm never losing track
I've seen il all and so much more
But I ain't seen nothing yet
Love 'em or leave 'em
No rhyme or reason
State of the nation
Pure intoxication
Feel the vibration
The anticipation
Simple survival
No more denial
Love 'em or leave 'em
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Being Told That There Is No Rhyme For The Word “Limerick”
After I heard Harry’s limerick,
I found that my mind set to simmer. “Rick, ”
I said to myself,
“One might write it itself, ”
But I answered, “You’re chances are slimmer, Rick! ”
So I can’t find a good rhyme for Limerick.
Told myself, “ You are just a beginner, Rick
And though there’s no reason
You can’t write something decent,
I fancy your chances get grimmer, Rick! ”
He said that it might rhyme with turmeric
But I thought, “You’re not that fast a learner, Rick:
Ditch your thoughts wasting time
Finding suitable rhyme;
Let your plans, man, stand on the back burner, Rick.”
But the cogwheels had started to turn a bit
As I guessed I had started to learn a bit
And I might find a line
That rhymes Limerick fine
And might win me a prize, so I earn a bit.
But I thought, “Though there was just a glimmer, Rick.
You will think till you’re needing a zimmer, Rick,
Since the muse isn’t kind,
I am sure you’ll will find
Not a word that will rhyme fine with Limerick.”
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Replacing Hackneyed Tradition Rhymes
slant rhyme
half rhyme
imperfect rhyme
deliberately
concentrated
on that style
on the themes
in work early
instead
of hackneyed
tradition
rhymes
detracting
subtle
or impact
concepts?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Ad Comitissam Rutlandiæ
Madam, so may my verses pleasing be,
So may you laugh at them and not at me,
'Tis something to you gladly I would say;
But how to do't I cannot find the way.
I would avoid the common beaten ways
To women used, which are love or praise:
As for the first, the little wit I have
Is not yet grown so near unto the grave,
But that I can, by that dim fading light,
Perceive of what, or unto whom I write.
Let such as in a hopeless, witless rage,
Can sigh a quire, and read it to a page;
Such is do backs of books and windows fill,
With their too furious diamond or quill;
Such as were well resolved to end their days
With a loud laughter blown beyond the seas;
Who are so mortified that they can live
Contemned of all the world, and yet forgive,
Write love to you: I would not willingly
Be pointed at in every company;
As was that little tailor, who till death
Was hot in love with Queen Elizabeth:
And, for the last, in all my idle days
I never yet did living woman praise
In prose or verse: and when I do begin
I'll pick some woman out as full of sin
As you are full of virtue; with a soul
As black as you are white; a face as foul
As you are beautiful: for it shall be
Out of the rules of physiognomy
So far, that I do fear I must displace
The art a little, to let in her face.
It shall att least four faces be below
The devil's; and her parched corpse shall show
In her loose skill as if some sprite she were
Kept in a bag by some great conjurer.
Her breath shall be as horrible and wild
As every word you speak is sweet and mild;
It shall be such a one as will not be
Covered with any art or policy:
But let her take all powders, fumes, and drink,
She shall make nothing but a dearer stink;
She shall have such a foot and such a nose,
She shall not stand in anything but prose;
If I bestow my praises upon such,
'Tis charity, and I shall merit much.
My praise will come to her like a full bowl,
Bestowed at most need on a thirsty soul;
Where, if I sing your praises in my rhyme,
I lose my ink, my paper, and my time;
And nothing add to your o'erflowing store,
And tell you nought, but what you knew before.
Nor do the virtuous-minded (which I swear,
Madam, I think you are) endure to hear
Their own perfections into questions brought,
But stop their ears at them; for if I thought
You took a pride to have your virtues known,
Pardon me, madam, I should think them none.
To what a length is this strange letter grown,
In seeking of a subject, yet finds none!
But your brave thoughts, which I so much respect
Above your glorious titles, shall accept
These harsh disordered lines. I shall ere long
Dress up your virtues new, in a new song;
Yet far from all base praise and flattery,
Although I know whate'er my verses be,
They will like the most servile flattery shew,
If I write truth, and make the subject you.
poem by Francis Beaumont
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0004 The world has lost the ear for rhyme
The world has lost the ear for rhyme.
It still makes children squirm with pleasure;
and from some witty pens and minds, its fireworks fizz;
so, after all these centuries of rhyme
and all the games of meter, dancing words,
should we now mourn its passing?
Have we lost the music of another world?
Instead, the easy unpretentious discourse,
sober, light, familiar, honest -
the world of daily, homely, shared sharp life,
that's now preferred. Not prose;
much more than 'chopped-up prose' as those may say
who think that poetry should be more visibly hard-earned;
- as if a human life set down in honesty
were not a poem in itself, unwrit;
'prose with enhanced consciousness' it's often now defined;
and consciousness - now that's earned, if you like...
and simile, and imagery, and metaphor - all the repertoire
of glorious poetry - they're all still here
to work their magic; if more played down, now,
unostentatious as T-shirt and jeans;
unostentatious as the beating, bloody heart.
And yet, when years bring tears
and time brings death and dying,
it's time for rhyme, to heal the heart
and charm away the crying.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Chronicles of A New Day part 2 New Feelings Old Skin
One more look
one more time someone took
this time i talk about it in a rhyme
i choose not to write in prose
yet im not a dead poet and dont talk in the dead language of the rose
i think and think over.. and over.. and now i see
even when i close my eyes i think of me
and the other and if you think i am mean
by not explaining then you dont know what i mean
now I am back here again where fey
and inveigh
started... back where the first real rhyme came
where my heart became untame
now back where i leaned of my hood
i learned i could
keep a shroud that could keep others away
for even more then a day
back thinking of her... onve again i am here
thinking and thinking some more, calling her darling and dear
o how i shed tear after tear
just gotta get over her
knowing she won't love me back
to no avail... i have the same feelings and yet
the stage away still be set
but though i didnt get over you i am different...
poem by David Knox
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Blind
Ive been searching for the answers
Ive been diving in the sea
Ive been haunted by the shadows
Of what we could have been
And its not that Im broken
And it isnt that I bleed
But when you pulled the stars from the heavens
It got so hard to see
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now, we had our time
But you leave me, blind
Will you leave me, blind
Dove for the treasures
We went deep down for the pearls
And we could have cracked it open
Yeah, it could have been so good
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now, we had our time
I feel this pain, I know Im alive
If love is wrong, then Im doing time
I feel myself, small like a child
My love has gone, how will I survive
Its everywhere, its in the trees
All those stars and I cant see
Im blind, Im blind, Im blind
And how will you think of us
A crease along your hand
Lying at these temple doors
Beautiful and sad
And where would I put my hands now?
Its over now, we had our time
Its over now , we had our time
But you leave me, blind
Will you leave me, blind
Its in the trees
All those stars and I cant see
Oh, you leave me, you leave
You leave me, blind, blind
Ooh, you leave me, you leave me
Its in the trees
You leave me, you leave me
Blind
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry and Prose
What is the true difference ’twixt Prose and Rhyme,
Since both may be beautiful, both be sublime?
Nor in subject, nor treatment, nor passion it ’bides—
But breathes through a certain rich something besides.
poem by Charles Harpur
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King of The Pen and Prose
King of the pen and prose.
He's an ink blotter stopper...
Rimming to the brim with rhyme.
And unconfined to find a line,
To entwine the mind!
King of the pen and prose.
Profound with nouns...
And vowel sounds.
Tossing in an adjective,
To vibe with a verb he throws.
He 'is' the king of the pen and prose!
He teases when he wishes...
And uses depth to expose a certain flair!
Just to keep a reader guessing...
What is being solicited,
If he becomes explicit...
With a tongue in cheek penned affair!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wattle
Wattle wattle everywhere
Wattle we do next wattle
Yellow life exploding out from each coarse stem
Joyful for a few short weeks
A few short weeks and then
Scrub wattle dry wattle
Until spring comes again.
poem by David Keig
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Stupid
So sad to hear that you dont want to hang around with me
So lame to see you leave and to know that you believe that its over
Cause when your weak I feel the need to get underneith your skin
And when you start to tweak I find a way to get up beside you
Stupid, stupid, stupid
Stupid, stupid, stupid
In time youll learn to love me as much as you love yourself
Oh in time youll learn to hate me
Cause when I feel the need to have you back by my side
I am sweet it makes me sick to know that I can be so blind
Stupid, stupid, stupid
Stupid, stupid, stupid
Stupid, stupid, stupid
Stupid, stupid, stupid
song performed by by Oleander
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be My Friend Tonight
I threw a party. nobody came.
I bought all the tickets. they cancelled the game.
I give you my picture. it didnt fit your frame
Be my friend tonight
Be my friend tonight. be my friend tonight.
Ill sleep on the couch. you can leave on that light.
Well, I wont do nothing wrong till you say its right
Come on honey, be my friend tonight
Now you bring the glasses and Ill bring the wine
Ill rub your shoulders just like they were mine
I wont make no passes till its passing time
If youre only gonna be my buddy tonight
Be my friend tonight. be my friend tonight.
Ill sleep on the couch. you can leave on that light.
Well, I wont do nothing wrong till you say its right
Come on darling, be my friend tonight
Well, Ill mind my manners. my ps and qs
I wont give you nothing that you cant use
Ill whip out that old guitar and sing you the blues
Be my friend tonight
Be my friend tonight. be my friend tonight.
Ill sleep on the couch. you can leave on that light.
Well, I wont do nothing wrong till you say its right
Come on honey, be my friend tonight
Be my friend tonight. be my friend tonight.
Ill sleep on the couch. you can leave on that light.
Well, I wont do nothing wrong till you say its right
Come on darling, be my friend tonight
Oh, come on honey, be my friend tonight
Please, be my friend tonight.
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rollin'
Verse 1 :
It's the bomb, 3-2-1 detanate & boom
give me some room you better wait
for the kid to blow-up and take off like a rocket
got something up my sleeve and something else in my pocket
yeah, let me see you move out there
through your hands in the air like you just don't care
cause we rollin' here coming with the funk sound
and this ain't the government so, we won't shut down
first gear, make sure you got everything you need
second gear, lean back as you pick up speed
third gear, hit the highway you're starting to roll
and fourth gear, now you're looking for the cruise control
I got my home boys with me and we rollin' kinda tight
get it washed in the day so it's shiny at night
and make you feel alright like when your pockets is swollen
so bust this as I does this and we rollin'
Chorus:
rollin' rollin' rollin'
on the track and we
rollin' rollin' rollin'
and there ain't no turnin' back
there's a party going on but it's hard to see
because they didn't understand it till they rolled with me
that's why we
Rollin' rollin' rollin'
in the west and we
Rollin' rollin' rollin'
east coast past the test
there's a whole buncha people with a whole lotta soul
but, it don't get started till we start to roll
Verse 2:
come one, come all we ain't looking for no static
you can roll low riff stick shift or automatic
it's an open ivitation to the whole nation
yo the whole world all of civilization
bob your head to the lyrics that I said
from an 18-wheeler down to a mo-ped
even a kid can go or a bike or a trike
can get with it as the people here me hit it on the mic
now convoy came out twenty years ago
but I love that record bay don't you know
it doesn't matter who's up front or who's behind
just as long as we rolling and we stay in line
so take your time as you get your boogie on
and let me bust my rhyme up until the break of dawn
cause some try to dis and look at this like it's stolen
don't trip moneygrip, pink slip and we rollin'
Chorus:
rollin' rollin' rollin'
on the track and we
rollin' rollin' rollin'
and there ain't no turnin' back
there's a party going on but it's hard to see
because they didn't understand it till they rolled with me
that's why we
Rollin' rollin' rollin'
in the west and we
Rollin' rollin' rollin'
east coast past the test
there's a whole buncha people with a whole lotta soul
but, it don't get started till we start to roll
verse 3:
I got kicks, I got snares, I got tracks, I got beats,
I got more ryhmes than klans men got sheets
but I don't fight the quibble, bite or even nibble
mess around and I have to break you down off the dribble
with a 1-2-3 take it to the bank
and before we get started put some gas in your tank
cause we don't wanna make a pit-stop for a while
we gonna keep it going for a couple hundered miles
and when we do stop it's like a brotherhood thing
ladies become queens the men become kings
so when you hit your neighborhood treat your neighbor good
ain't no other flavor make you move but i bet this flavor could
so give me the microphone and let me finish up my mission
and tell your people you won't be home and that your on an expedition
cause there's a bunch of hope in my heart that I'm holding
so join me set yourself free cause we rolling
Chorus:
rollin' rollin' rollin'
on the track and we
rollin' rollin' rollin'
and there ain't no turnin' back
there's a party going on but it's hard to see
because they didn't understand it till they rolled with me
that's why we
Rollin' rollin' rollin'
in the west and we
Rollin' rollin' rollin'
east coast past the test
there's a whole buncha people with a whole lotta soul
but, it don't get started till we start to roll
Yeah we
rollin' rollin' rollin'
on the track and we
rollin' rollin' rollin'
and there ain't no turnin' back
there's a party going on but it's hard to see
because they didn't understand it till they rolled with me
that's why we
Rollin' rollin' rollin'
in the west and we
Rollin' rollin' rollin'
east coast past the test
yeah we roll and roll and roll with out no doubt
to the place for the nine sase baby and I'm out
song performed by by Young MC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bard of Furthest Out
He longed to be a Back-Blocks Bard,
And fame he wished to win—
He wrote at night and studied hard
(He read The Bulletin);
He sent in “stuff” unceasingly,
But couldn’t get it through;
And so, at last, he came to me
To see what I could do.
The poet’s light was in his eye,
He aimed to be a man;
He bought a bluey and a fly,
A brand new billy-can.
I showed him how to roll his swag
And “sling it” with the best;
I gave him my old water-bag,
And pointed to the west.
“Now you can take the train as far
As Blazes if you like—
The wealthy go by motor-car
(Some travellers go by bike);
They race it through without a rest,
And find it very tame—
But if you tramp it to the west
You’ll get there just the same.
“(No matter if the hour is late,
The morning goes Out-Back),
You do not need a dog nor mate,
You’ll find them on the track.
You must avoid such deadly rhymes
As ‘self’ and ‘elf’ and ‘shelf’.
But were it as in other times,
I’d go with you myself.
“Those days are done for me, but ah!
On hills where you shall be,
The wattle and the waratah
Are good to smell and see.
But there’s a scent, my heart believes,
That ‘travellers’ set higher
Than wattle—’tis the dried gum leaves
That light the evening fire.
“The evening fire and morning fire
Are one fire in the Bush.
(You’ll find the points that you require
As towards the west you push.)
And as you pass by ancient ways,
Old camps, and mountain springs,
The spirits of the Roaring Days
Will whisper many things.
“The lonely ridge-and-gully belt—
The spirit of the whole
It must be seen; it must be felt—
Must sink into your soul!
The summer silence-creek-oaks’ sigh—
The windy, rainy “woosh”—
’Tis known to other men, and I—
The Spirit of the Bush!
“So on, and on, through dust and heat,
When past the spurs you be—
And you shall meet whom you shall meet,
And see what you shall see,
You need not claim the stranger’s due,
They yield it everywhere,
And mateship is a thing that you
Must take for granted there.
“And in the land of Lord-knows-where—
Right up and furthest out—
You find a new Australia there
That we know nought about.
Live as they live, fight as they fight,
Succeed as they succeed,
And then come back again and write
For all the world to read.”
I’ve got a note from Hungerford,
’Tis written frank and fair;
The bushman’s grim philosophy—
The bushman’s grin are there.
And tramping on through rain and drought—
Unlooked for and unmissed—
I may have sent to furthest out
The Great Bush Novelist.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Satisfied Mind
(j.hayes/j.rhodes)
This is a traditional folk song that has been sung by many artists, as the byrds in turn! turn! turn! or joan baez in farewell angelina
How many times have you heard someone say
If I had money, Id do things my way,
But little they know that its so hard to find
One rich man with a satisfied mind.
Money cant buy back your youth when youre old
A friend, when youre lonely, or peace to your soul.
The wealthiest person is a pauper at times
Compared to the man with a satisfied mind.
When my life is over and my time has run out.
My friends and my loved ones, Ill leave them no doubt.
But, one things gone for certain, when it comes my time
Ill leave this old world with a satisfied mind.
Satisfied mind.
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Satisfied Mind
How many times have you heard someone say,
"If I had his money, I could do things my way."
But little they know, its so hard to find
One rich man in ten with a satisfied mind.
Once I was living in fortune and fame,
Everything that I dreamed of to get a start in lifes game.
Then suddenly it happened, I lost every dime.
But Im richer by far with a satisfied mind.
Cause money cant buy back your youth when youre old,
Or a friend when youre lonely
Or a love thats grown cold.
The wealthiest person is a pauper at times,
Compared to the man with a satisfied mind.
When life has ended, my time has run out,
My friends and my loved ones Ill leave, theres no doubt.
But one thing for certain
When it comes my time,
Ill leave this old world
With a satisfied mind.
song performed by by Lindsey Buckingham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paradise / The Spell
I feel you trying,
though in my heart I know you're lying.
And though your love for me is dying,
I see you crying.
It's the pain of your secret heart
bringing you to tears, filling you with fears
for your mind and for your soul.
I touch you softly now,
born on by hope until the end, somehow.
I am a man and I must keep my vows,
I must go on.
But the wall of your secret heart
keeps my distance clear, helps my footsteps fall
back in line inside my mind.
What's the use? You turned me loose
and left me here to cry.
Where's the love we talked about?
Where's my sunny sky?
Secret hearts and sorry tales
will never help love grow.
Spread your wings my darkened soul,
the time has come to go.
I will not be hurried down
or blackened by you lies.
I must go and find my dreams
and live in paradise.
(Repeat and fade)
What do you think I am? Do you think I'm dreaming?
Don't you know I know what it is you're schemeing?
Who did you think gave you the right,
hidden by the dead of night,
to take the world and turn it upside down,
when it should be round?
It seems I made it just in time
to use my reason and my rhyme
to save us from the evils of your mind.
I will cast the spell, be sure I cast it well.
I will light a fire, kindled with desire.
I'll fill you with fear so you'll know I'm here
and I won't be treated like a fool.
Stop what you're pretending, there'll be no happy ending.
I'm alive and darkness is my tool.
But when the night is over,
and daytime steals your cover,
the goodness of the morning sun
will wear away what you have done
and leave you cold.
I have no need for moonlight.
You're wrong to trust in sunlight.
For I exist, not just in storms,
but in life itself, in so many forms
to leave you cold.
I will leave you now, but you wont defeat me.
You had best beware when you come to meet me.
Love and truth will follow me,
an army of reality,
brought from every corner of the world.
You will never break the spell.
I summon all the fires of hell
and this is my advice for what it's worth:
Let us not begin this fight we cannot win.
Be sure you're watching me.
Cause all through your life,
every day and every night
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once I Had
Once I had a friend
They would brighten up my day
Once I had a friend
Till they took it all away
Once I had a friend
To share my load and carry on
Once I had a friend
And now that friend is gone
My advice is when you love someone
Tell them every single day
And when they make you smile
Send a smile back their way
For life is not about money
And life is not about gold
If you have a friend you’re richer
Than most will ever know
A friend sees us through hard times
Holds our hand when we’re alone
A friend is one that loves us
No matter what we’ve done
So if you find a friendship
That brings you to your knees
Just know you can’t hold one
When someone wants to leave
Because to truly love another
To truly love and care
You give them what they seek
Even if they can’t be there
(SS050209)
poem by Queen Oneeightytwo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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