Literature
Winks
The world may be or may not be exactly what one thinks.
You stop to wonder on the street beside a wall that winks.
The high stay high, the low stay low, the world stays on its rails.
Is the way it seems to be written with indelible inks?
The sun comes up, the light descends, the world is here again.
As the sun goes higher the half moon in the sky sinks.
Why in the world are those people in the woods beside the road?
Every passing driver takes a look and blinks.
The autumn leaves in this part of the world are in so many poems!
We cherish the beauty before the lakes turn into skating rinks.
In the world of old pop music, I like the Beatles