may these wandering stroll
finish swiftly somewhere far,
where our skies meet.
where sadness is but
a shapeless, amorphous cloud
dissolving amid joyful cries.
where my tears cross
your light in glimmering
beams, a whispered rainbow.
where I can feel
small again, born again
in ever flaming leaves.
liberty will never perish
love will wash us
where our skies meet.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 9:32 PM UTC
A mulish tread after another,
in a constant pace, ****** boring,
Indifferent to why, when or where,
Scorched by a violent hiss, prompting
another tread, another obsolete yard.
Oblivious to a world behind a glimpse,
were you not too blind to see
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC