Tombstone Softly Standing
I quiver gently, these proud useless minor days, dead tree still standing wickedly, too dumb to fall, the sap of life upright by chance alone, each breeze a potent ached for force of quick release, but no, I stand, I stand my ground, decay before your very eyes, no wisdom left to sparkle this dead day, a victim only of my own sweet human lies, a criminal in my waste of others’ time, their fervent secondary thoughts. Not here, not gone, too quick to bury, a furtive prisoner in my own polluted shell, I whisper sigh hiccup my visionary role of yesterday, a monument to...
Read More