Teleman, viola concerto
We were three close
Friends
When we were young
We go to a river
At the back
Of our house
There is a big
Plank of driftwood
And we all ride
On it as though
It were a big
Boat and our
Hands are paddles
We sail
And we laugh
The place
Is off limits
For us children
In fact
Father says
Beware
A big crocodile
Lives there
And swallows
A child in whole
We did not take
Heed
We are the
Hardheaded
Children and this
Something
Traumatic
On that river
At the back of
The house
Where the
Big plank
Of wood which
We ride on
Carried us
All laughing
To the other
Side
Only the two
Of us
Survived
What we heard
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
