Sunday, May 13, 2007

A poem - "Boys Pockets"

String, bark peeled from a twig
Nestling comfortably amidst
The twist and fluff.
The shiny conker, scratched
And the paperclip
Jostling with the crackling wrapper
That inexpertly covers the last-chewed gum.

Unused handkerchief, folded still
But bearing the imprint of fingers
Who love mud, and stones,
and the great discoveries that lie
Unheeded at the feet of adults.
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