Here I am,
sheltered beneath a canopy,
testing the rain with an arm,
thinking of ways,
to consider moving on.
I have seen several roads,
each different in but a single way,
each grown with roots,
unsheltered lines,
open to the elements and forlorn.
When I walk
the cold wraps around,
I take so many steps,
I have forgotten warmth,
on this path.
Now I'm nearly done,
all around looks just the same,
sometimes I think back,
to when I was warm,
and wished I had stayed.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
Here I am,
sheltered beneath a canopy,
testing the rain with an arm,
thinking of ways,
to consider moving on.
I have seen several roads,
each different in but a single way,
each grown with roots,
unsheltered lines,
open to the elements and forlorn.
When I walk
the cold wraps around,
I take so many steps,
I have forgotten warmth,
on this path.
Now I'm nearly done,
all around looks just the same,
sometimes I think back,
to when I was warm,
and wished I had stayed.