Charles B. Snoad

Stuck in the past, I go from happy to sad and back again in a flash. I feel too much, much too fast. I have poems to write but not enough rhyme.

Robert Frost is on my mind. There are two trains at my station but only one for me to ride. I can’t, for the life of me, decide between them side by side.

Beyond the blue horizon lies a sky within a sky. I can’t see myself on either train with either I.