#WritcoPoemPrompt8
Every soul that passes the gate,
Has passed a test of fate,
Trudging along on tired feet,
Almost there, refusing to be beat...
Almost...almost there.
Justification is my external care.
My external name.
Free to stare.
Light's is downstairs.
At least connection is very good.
And about wood?
Against all the odds the wood has a special time to live.
Like everything else.
I am outside my house and lights are down.
Just listening the dogs barking.
Natural poem...I got inside my house now.
Recharging my phone.
The seat is so uncomfortable that I miss the sofa.
The dham dogs still barking.
I am writing...
The dham seat...made of wood.
Every soul pases the gate.
Wait...wait...
just look them passing through... they can't be late.
wait... wait.
Goodnight is ...like a light cake.


© Filipa