slight palms to catch the morrow

lonely now

as was

back then

in flagrant

lack

of

breath,

at odds

with what

to do

in stead

still crouched

in wounds

of death;

so trampled

i

on skins

of life

a tread

that bears

no gold,

and wait

once more

for sun

to shed

in hopes

of rays

to hold..

About lifeofawillow

lifeofawillow.wordpress.com
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