I stand astride
Across the continent
Sea to shining sea
Watching the time
Flow back into the past
Counterclockwisely
Old men grow young
Their births then undone
Fruit grows into the tree
Which then turn to bud
Vanishes in the mud
Counterclockwisely
The ships full of men
Sailing against the tide
And back in time
Transatlantically
I see from above
Words flying off the page
Unwriting history
It’s not The New World
It’s not an empty stage
It’s another chance to be
Counterclockwisely
2 comments:
Nice one. Counterclockwisedly sounds better? Extra syllable
Oh I like it. Even nonsensier.
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