A child.

    A poem about circles.

I was a child standing

Beneath a clock

If when I dream is not real

How do I know it is real where I stand

What if I want to change where I am

Do I close my eyes

Do I say dear god

Do I say it once

Whisper and hold the dust

Why want

Why not just be

I was a child again

Standing alone with

All the past and future

Reflecting in that glass wall

Of a neighbour’s house.

I am a child holding

My son asking about

Where dead people go.

4 thoughts on “A child.

      1. I feel the same way afterwards! It feels like I’ve finally expressed myself completely. Then I have to wait for my imagination to fill up again.
        What gives me confidence is knowing that the only people who will read my stuff are the ones who take the time to read it. And if they take the time to read it, then it’s probably not because they’re judging me. It’s because they connect with it.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. It is beautiful how people add to the words. My mental image of the poem moulds anew when I get to hear how someone else perceives it. Liberating from the fear of being judged is necessary in any form of creative expression, especially because it is interaction that brings art to life. Still, there is a wish to be understood, a need for harmony and acceptance – in me, in all of us, I think.

    Všeč mi je

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