When I am gone
It is as if drought has struck
The creamy Buttercups that once blanketed the
Rolling contours of a
Softened soul
Give way to endless prairie
With only sage to pluck
A sad bouquet
Un-given
Each journey exacts a
Nameless toll
There’s life in the thirsty plain
Its true
But coming home to you
Is the hope of rain
1 comment:
thanks for this....beautiful
but lets aim for you and mom living another 35 full years and we'll hope for rain after that :)
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