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I'm stuck with dial-up in this high speed world,
Seems just how my life is. Race by, race by
Like a turtle in quicksand with a broken leg.
I may not move as quickly as they do, but
Heck, I know when to stop and think. I know
How to stop and drink in the sweet frangrance
Of succulent roses, bathing ing in milky sunlight.
They have to go, go, go right on past, without
Even catching a glimpse. What is it that they need
To save time for so badly?
| this does have elements of good poetry. i feel that for being 14 you wrote a very good poem with this one. that is all.||| Posted on 2009-02-21 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ] |