Poem #7

‘Bigger on the inside’

It’s the same old blue box

sometimes it’s battered

sometimes the paint is still tacky

the engines groan and wheeze

and it goes

where it needs to be

When the doors open

and the golden light bursts through

and the mad man in a blue box

offers his hand: I’ll go

I want to know

if we’re all really bigger

on the inside

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Categories: postcard poems, scenery | Tags: , | Leave a comment

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