My Meanderings


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Freshly carpeted turf assembled.

Such as, a magnet drawing me back.

My meanderings…a sad attempt at coloring between the lines.

Contours to a landscape that will never be defined.

Thus far, onward I must go.

Questioning arsenic to a dug well.

Nudging obstacles and their meaning.

Bathing in miscue’s undertow.

Collectively the voices in my head.

Haven’t you heard?

‘Reap what you sow.’

And so it goes,

I am not as virile as, a planted tree.

But, as stubborn as, the roots beneath my perfectly, imperfect, feet.

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