What more could I ask for in this long life

but a healthy portion of fresh patience?
While the world turns I post up, fragrant, rife
with silence, in the vortex of passions:
From the terroir of three thousand rosebuds
I grew strong, bold, sweet and thin like tree stems
tapped for chicle – They sapped all of the woods
for want of my fluid, my liquid gems:
But I was rubber, not gum, so they failed
to stick my essence to any meaning;
"This bark was louder than that bite," I wailed – 
sheets of sighs, as my sang streamed out shining:
Listen to the rustlings; the universe
riddles through trees, seas on its fickle course.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s