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A red checkered fleece
Wonders through tall oaks
That pose for photos
Waiting to be remembered in time.

Like all of us
We stare at satellites
That try to blend in with city skylines
Praying to the nearest star
That we can be remembered.

Not in the man
In the red checkered fleece though
He practices being mechanical
By repeating the same tasks
Of knocking down
These photogenic trees.

It all is the same you see
Same fleece ,you better believe
Same dirt on his knees
Same dirt that is in his shoes
To remind him
Of his ***** stance
On his actions from his past.

The past isn't the past
If it's accompanied
By the purest of souls.
Each time the trees dance in sync
With the howling winds
He hears the moaning sorrows
Left on his porch side.
On the 3rd of July

Everytime he takes a break
From breaking these trees' dreams,
His hands shake
From his attempts
To cold turkey the drug
Called her eyes.  

His sore veins died in vain
Slithered into these trees,
Hugging the roots of these oaks
That creak from time
That rest on their shoulders

Time
Time is his enemy
As lumberjacks stray from time
As they don't wear watches
When they work
As managers watch watches
To tell them what time to go home However this lumberjack
Slaves over the labyrinth
He created for himself
For the punishment
He feels he deserves.

He digs his tail
Of destruction through these trees.
Hoping that his path to self discipline
Freezes with the autumn snow.
the trees settle their ghosts,
in the yellows of the sinking day
a strange wood
that waits for it to grow dark,
that sinks like a cloud
as falling leaves flood the sandy isles
with their sighs of fire,
as the trees ripple and flow
to a wind of immense breath,
rocking, floating down,
a sapphire ring left on a branch
by a girl who dreams of snow.
 Oct 2015 MsAmendable
Mike Essig
Be very wary.
Normal life
threatens to
engulf and
overwhelm you
at any moment.

  ~mce
A haunted house. Great.
I've plenty ghosts already
Right here in my head
 Oct 2015 MsAmendable
niamh
The moonlight trips
Over the still lough
And the sounds of the night
Are silenced with awe.
She is the priestess,
Listening to confessions
Bred on the dark side
Of the moon.
Absolution is found
In her purifying light.
to fly,

you must learn
how to

crawl

©IGMS
lesson #1 from butterfly

allow the process to take
and practice slowly
only then, you can truly fly

tap or click the
#igmslessonsfromanimals tag
button to read the other lessons
to reach your destination,
you must walk slowly
with passion
and dedication

©IGMS
lesson #2 from turtle

use hardship to fuel determination to be able to reach the dream success

tap or click the
#igmslessonsfromanimals tag
button to read the other lessons
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