Sky high

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    Sky high

    looking up on,
    looking down on,
    I'm floating in the air.
    Seems so restless, when I'm so peacfull,
    you know I don't have care.
    I've come down town,
    my feet on the ground,
    any familiar face I know?
    I would tell you, all about it,
    but only I alone should know.
    And I come down to where I once stood and looked up in ore.
    If I fell down I'd dissapear before I hit the floor.

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    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    313sidney’s Poems (3)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The void 2
    Sky high 0
    The Dream 1

    313sidney’s Friends (1)