Thursday, January 10, 2013

Golden bin

I see the trains, crossing my path
to pick me up, -
to win the pass
to destination of my dreams
to master right calibration
I could cling
for an invitation in your eyes,
for the will, driving me
to the edge of your bin
you've built so diligently,
planned to be
caught by no cop
in any other pack, -
only yours golden one
with unsolved monograms,
leading to ancient time,
where you've been
a wind chime
for magicians and tramps.
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