Tunnels
With a screech like an owl that lives in the park;
It moves like a shadow from out of the dark.
While repeating the stories that come to their ears;
There in the tunnel a vision appears.
Running like rodents, scrambling for cheese;
They repeat all their stories like a spreading disease.
Thoughtlessly selfish, the frightened recite;
And there’s no joy in mud vile, not here not to night
Copyright © Leonard Taormina | Year Posted 2011
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