Poetry Drive

Engine disorder,

brakes screech...

A missing wall

Lady, tell me

how does your garden grow?

afterall

you are the one

who knows it all

Let me graffiti

in your grass..

leaning out

a battered car

to face a muddied bath

Swollen fingers stuck in the soil

words fire in this toil

A bleeding body in this car

a poem battered and now scarred

poems spat n often barred

others simply ticked n now they're starred

as a stranger passes by

smoking grass up on high...

why? oh why? oh why..

should I drive

poetry

Jason Christopher

#poem #drive #grass