Every child grows a pair of wings.
Some are just never taught to fly.

I miss days we knew before
Both of us were free
Blissfully naive
Unaware
Our lives were so easy

I took it for granted
Then it went to hell
Would give up everything
To again be under that magic spell

Back when each day was happy
Along with each night
A simple conversation
Occurred without a fight

I miss not carrying weight of the world
Weightless when we'd kiss
Those people we used to be
Would be shocked it's come to this

How did we let potential slip away?
Is this what we're destined to be?
Is it possible to attain
The future young hearts used to see?

Winter
by Michael R. Burch

The rose of love’s bright promise
lies tattered by the thorn;
her scent was sweet
but at her feet
the pallid aphids mourn.

The lilac of devotion
has felt the winter ****
and shed her dress;
companionless,
she shivers, **** and sore.

Published by Songs of Innocence, The Aurorean and Contemporary Rhyme. Keywords/Tags: love, rose, bright, promise, potential, tattered, torn, thorn, winter, naked, ****, shivering, sore, scent, fragrance, aroma, sweet, pallid, aphids, lilac, devotion, ****, hoarfrost, frost, ice

Tillage
by Michael R. Burch

What stirs within me
is no great welling
straining to flood forth,
but an emptiness
waiting to be filled.

I am not an orchard
ready to be harvested,
but a field
rough and barren
waiting to be tilled.

Keywords/Tags: tillage, raw, potential, barren, field, tabula rasa, blank slate, palimpsest

And just like that
I am back to being everything that he wanted
Except for the fact
I am not with him
He does not get to see
This better version of me
Mature and clean
Because he had his chance
And didn't see
All of my potential
To get out of my dark space
And be in a happy place
With him
So I found
Someone without any doubts
About me
Who cares and loves
More than he ever does
And just like that
I am back to being loved
By someone thats not just mean

I'm sorry, but I'm not ready.
I'm not ready to love you.
To be with you.
To offer more of me
Than a hug or a kiss.
I know it may sound strange, but I'm not ready for the potential, perpetual bliss.
I'm not ready to take your hand, or get out on the floor and groove.
Maybe I will someday,
But until then, whether you stay or go, it's your move.