Meadow
The river that runs with its reveling pace
The flow of the life that's fulfilled in the lace
The heart and its beat that are tied to a face
Remove all the pain from this life without trace
The mountains surrounding the valley become
Words that collapse to a rhythm and hum
The river runs through it as words become numb
The heartstrings revealing the loss with their strum
The grass in the meadow is seeking its source
A life to be lived without chance of remorse
I travel this life with a will on a course
That leaves behind self with the tensions of force
I'm tempted to move to writing nonsensical rhoetry. They are always much easier and less painful. For some reason, a rhoem about stained glass has come to mind. It's sensical (? I guess that's a word, since there's no red underline) but, still, somehow it comes to mind.
These, lately, have pretty much been writing themselves. Sorry if they are crap.
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