Monday, March 19, 2018

Breezy

The trees are swaying fiercely in the wind
Their motion makes me feel like I have spinned
Around enough to fleetingly rescind
This unseen force that binds me to the earth

I burden withered limbs most every day
A stationary clod of crusty clay
Endeavoring to always find a way
To mask a life amiss with mindless mirth.

No comments: