poetry
What is this spring they talk of
Whatever happened to fall
Befallen
Your heart forsaken
Where are the winter chills
Do they have a place in the seasons
And does the mist of time navigate by good reason
Or must we beg the forgiveness of time’s lusty passage
Fall to its mercy, enter our pleads
Desert the green hills for pearls or for swine
Drink wine and be merry each day come its time
Is one not free to traverse hidden…
