The rippled waves that come in sways and shift my sitting core
The shaking ache that does forsake and break us forever more
The wandering lust within my trust that tells me to run away
The cost of death and every breath, turning and spinning decay
The harvest took from every plant that comes at early time
The gentle hand who understands the fear of all this grime
The callused mind whose so refined it picks apart the world
The timid heart that can't restart and feels it's love so curled
The narrow train that runs to gain but always falls so short
The scarlet lass who makes a pass, pleasure, her last resort
The coping child who turns to mild when all would fall apart
The wishing man who moves unplanned asking where does structure start
Of all of this, among the miss, the bliss can still surround
Though in our thoughts, and what we aught, a turning has us bound
We tell ourselves the path is strait to make amends and truce
Yet like the seeds that lies so weave, we've uprooted our Autumn spruce
About the Creator
Nicholas Goodman
Poet. Writer. Avid Tea enthusiast. Truth seeker. Love maker. Wondering what makes the world smile and how I can create that in words.
https://www.instagram.com/alloflovespoetry/
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