Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Fine red, grinch green leaves, fall gently from the long lived trees.
Gliding silently through the fridgid breeze, until laid with ease.
Silently they stumble down, resting amongst the humble ground.
Creating a carpet rich and rare, amongst life without any care.
Progression is a logic I don't understand, but I'm not practical on demand.

Creatively inventive, motivation is key. Encourages one to find a new me.

Brain out of remission not here nor there, I wonder if I find a new flare.

Something to capture, something to gain. The word progression is key again.

Resolutions made with admirable intent, creating time to circumvent.

To overcome a problem or difficulty, circumvent a word I use more recently.

Typically in a clever, surreptitious way, to come to a solution without repetition today.
Simply something, something to say.

All my quarrels have simply flown away.
The importance of being rational with fewer thorough guesses to my imagination, is up for discussion as it withholds its limitations.

I find my ego embodies my superficial mind and imposes with the irrational kind.

Irrationality at its utmost best. my thoughts where enough to digress.

Progressing became a liability, my imagination synced with my reality.

Capabilities pushed to a reasonable level. Though I no longer feel I am playing advocate to the devils double.
Rays creeping through my window, sparkling. Reinstated. Particles of dust fall, gliding. Noted. I close my eyes for a quick second, wild grass forming. Appreciated. Flowers, trees and animals run free. My mind, pictures are mounted. A sundial beautifully situated amongst the shaded, hidden. Grounded.

The sound of feet on used ground, already trodden. Children playing amongst the river bank's, stepping stones. Weathered. Parents watch and pay close attention, build a bridge. Help them. Rope swing hanging from a tree. Feathered. Flowers formulate in my mind, purple pleated petals. Stemmed.

I press my feet against the ground, dirt between my toes. Euphoric. I watch the birds fly over, intricate movements. I love it. Land where dinosaurs once ran wild and free. Daydreaming. Prehistoric. Me I listen the music forming symphonies, simplistic. Preach it.

— The End —