Trust
The green vine
simply, sweetly
climbing.
Face
the erring
bedridden fool.
Whisper on the shore bound breeze;
Leave the shadows
fighting on the wall.
The flicker,
The candle,
The flame.
When I'm old, I want to be entertained by my memories, not haunted by the vacccuum of routine. My fear is that I'll wake up one day and wonder why I even bothered.
No comments:
Post a Comment