The Quiet Irony

Let's escape this place,

Turned foreign with its

all too familiar faces.

We'll ride into the night,

Til the moon meets the horizon

And the rising sun kisses the clouds.

 

And once we are free,

We will find ourselves

spilling onto city streets.

Amongst the poets and players,

Warm rhythms calm our ardent ears

And soft skin soothes our grasping hands.

 

At our revel's end,

We'll pack up and make

Our way back to the patterns,

the endless cycles, that maintain

The days we strive to create yet

Crave to escape in quick measure.

What we come to find:

Our lives...defined by moments...in tricks of time.

Reviews

And once we are free,
We will find ourselves
spilling onto city streets.
Amongst the poets and players,

I liked these words here, this is amazing write, wonderful flow. This write relaly makes one think, or it does me. {Nice job}