I will hold my pen to bed
When the day comes with no words for poetry
I will dream of our infant voices
as mother warns us to quit the dashes
Yet we will run into to the kitchen
Hiding and seeking
Happy and smiling
Tag: family
The Sun In Love, Poetry by Fred Strydom
I met the sun one night
Off his shift
Sitting in a delicatessen.
Oh, I forgotten to mention,
The sun at night
Looks just like a regular person.
He was drinking some tea
All by himself,
WILDsound Festival 