DON’T THROW SNOW *
The prison guard yelled!
“Put that snow down”
The snow ball fell from my hands.
Down to the ground.
Also did my head look down.
I sad in place for a time to ponder.
What harm becomes of snow?
Twa’s not ice that I held
Sensory deprivation.
Just to touch the snow is a privilege.
The prison guard came close.
A shadow upon me.
Inside was oppression
Outside was rage.
OK’
I wont throw snow.
Torture!
My inner child has been held back.
It’s being held hostage.
Harold Sanford Carter III
Thank you for sharing. An enjoyable read. I’m amazed by the content in such a limited amount of material. Very impressive!