Labors of Love


Sometimes…a good run from a far away time.

Yet, those were remote lands in a yesterday rhyme.

Moments in what seemed the last of the sunshine.

Pensive walks are the current trend.

Lying in wait…for games of pretend.

Looming behind rock garden walls…with imaginary friends.

My father once told me…

“Eat from the single wild berry.

Collect a few friends…not too many.”

Course…he is a violent man

and…one never knew for certain…

his motives or stance.

Seems I will be running forever…whether with speed…

pitfalls of heed

or severed needs.

running 2 running 3

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