The Wishful Thinker Poem by james watkin
The Wishful Thinker
More than where he is
At present, chair-weighed.
Afar, and in time, too.
And lighter conveyed!
Of what for it spins
Unwheeled, a vortex.
With imaginative gusto.
Quickness, no trace leaves.
Not dust, nor blown corn sheaves.
For no sky does vex.
Tuesday, December 12, 2023
Topic(s) of this poem: wish
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12/13/2023 1:54:06 AM # 1.0.0.1119
