Some days, we just walk.
Because, to move
Means that we are still alive
Some days, we just walk.
Because, to move
Means that we are still alive
I must say, you look
Really happy —
And I am happy for you
Her heart lies empty –
The end came, and
She never saw it coming
Reflecting on what
We made our lives,
We see no clearer; but yet —
A picture emerges: one
Of our design,
And our young intent.
We climb our ladders
Where we place them;
And see what those heights allow
Peering off into the mist,
The autumn gray
Of our circumstance
We can warm ourselves
In love, being
Better than our destiny —
Memory awakes,
Sharpening thoughts,
And scaling too-high fences…
Crossing over, we
Leave behind all
We do not carry with us
Hope, also, is gray:
As autumn comes
And rhinos roam the country
Let me be that tree
That guards plowed fields
Through each season of the year