When you see that great tree, and the old, low branch.
When you walk out to it, to swing like old times.
When you walk right through it and fall to the ground.
When you get up and smile, and see there’s no tree.
When you retrace your steps, and find a great crowd.
When you turn around and whisper to me.
When I don’t exist and you never frown.
You know you’re insane, but maybe you’re wrong.
By: Flutterby
1 comment:
nice poem flutterby...hallucinations. and the ending is brilliant :)
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