Bucket

A Poem by Curtis Shannon

Resounding trumpets coursing through my mind

At a pace that's far from anything I could attain

Stars and moonlight slowly leave behind

That which should have been mine--no, ours

I should be kicking the bucket

But you already know

I've never had very good aim

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Added on April 7, 2015
Last Updated on April 7, 2015

Poetry is the closest that words will ever reach to becoming music. more..

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