Where do
you go?
( Almost a
compulsory question.)
Away for
some rest.
Away.
It’s when
everybody is away,
even if
they are at home
they are
away.
Tourism.
And on
television
documentaries
on travels,
entertainment
only,
jokes, fun,
catch and run,
each
evening the circus,
the playful
clowns
who spit
and shout
and never
drown.
Lightheartedness,
a must
you deserve
at last.
At last?
And how was
it at first?
( Not a
question now
to trust.)
3 comments:
Interesting questions. The answers change I think as one grows older, .. wiser? more disenchanted? Fascinating poem, though.
August is festival here. Or rather Festivals.
The second stanza applies to me. I'm home but away from my computer (well, except for now) :-). Loved your poem. Many thanks.
Greetings from London.
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