Moving Poem by Anthony Liccione
Moving
These wheels keep turning,
half a tank of gas now,
running from captivity
and into free,
dominate roads.
Passing the black and
white dogs scavenging
through garbage cans,
fifty dollars
won't get me far.
But I keep moving
an unknown direction,
hoping the years
will save me,
expecting time will
catch me.
As it never does,
and never will.
Thank you very much Bernard for your kind comment, really means a lot to me that I can make a form of connection.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 6:21:16 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A thought provoking rendition, intense, clear, and focused. A witty composition set aside for sober reflection. Thanks for sharing and do remain enriched.