running through the dewy grass
and sweating in my stinky shoes.
the soggy feel of wet socks
is what i hate.
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none of us are truly home. we are travelers in time, but travelers, still. we know not what we will become until we hear "welcome home."
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2011
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March
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- George Solonevich
- archives of poetry- poem twenty three
- so much
- archives of poetry- poem twenty two
- archives of poetry- poem twenty one
- the wall
- just i
- life long spent
- archives of poetry- poem twenty
- winter
- archives of poetry- poem nineteen
- archives of poetry- poem eighteen
- if
- America
- archives of poetry- poem seventeen
- archives of poetry- poem sixteen
- following that bus
- gift of heaven
- archives of poetry- poem fifteen
- archives of poetry- poem fourteen
- 75
- archives of poetry- poem thirteen
- one more step
- archives of poetry- poem twelve
- overdose
- archives of poetry- poem eleven
- To: Shaun Foley
- upon my 17th birthday
- archives of poetry- poem ten
- archives of poetry- poem nine
- archives of poetry- poem eight
- knowledge of the ages
- dialogue
- archives of poetry- poem seven
- archives of poetry- poem six
- archives of poetry- poem five
- archives of poetry- poem four
- archives of poetry- poem three
- archives of poetry- poetry: defined
- archives of poetry- poem two
- archives of poetry- poem one
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March
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About Me
- A Traveler in Time
- hi, my fellow travelers in time... these short posts are glimpses into my journey from a place of resigned sadness to a new place of complete joy and satisfaction. welcome. browse. enjoy. comment.
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