We are always
looking for meaning.
Finding only
emptiness or nothing.
Days chained to thoughts
who loses the time.
Such a wonderful way.
A robin, pecking about
for a worm, Why?
haven't you flown north.
Where Spring now enters.
Here, the streaks of summer
are warming the skin,
The flesh wants a touch.
Not for today, it needs
the other flesh to feel.
So settle for the warmth
of the yellow sun.
Settle always for less.
Less can be grasps
in the air of the hand.
1 comment:
What a depressing thought. (Note: Not a insult to the poem. Great job.) lol
Depressing as it is, I must admit that it is true most of the time. OH well, such is the life of mortals. Right now I am reaching out for publication, but I don't really care by whom at this poit. Just reaching out and grasping for anything I can get ahold of.
See you around.
~ Kaytrina
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