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.