Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Mark Jones Aug 2016
I sail upon a sea of change
Aboard my ship of ignorance
With spirit strong, I race along
With thought as but a hinderance

I chose this way, or was it fate?
I suppose it doesn't really matter
The ups, the downs, the smiles, the frowns
Such is a silence filled with chatter

I move within this time and space
assuming that all I see is real
So goes the world outside these eyes
revolving on a wishing wheel

I dreamt I wasn't this at all
I'd lost my secure identity
And all that is, or used to be
is in a sense Illusory
Mark Jones Aug 2016
Way up high they fly,
               Way up high,
               In the sky.

Touch of joy they give,
               Touch of joy,
               Simple toy.

Red ballons and kites
               Red balloons,
               Laughing loons.

Way up high they fly,
               Way up high,
               In the sky.

Moonbeams ride the tide...moonbeams inside.
Dancing and laughing, spending the day with a smile.
Sharing the well-kept secrets of youth for a while.
Kites and balloons, they soar free above the trees.
The string is secured to someone so easy to please.

— The End —