Something I wrote while having someone on my mind. |
The way these roots do err to succumb To the gentle ministrations and words Leave me barren in this zero-sum Scatter my seeds to the circling birds Oh, the voice from yonder lips Not as soft as the heart within Yet still at my armor it chips Would you indulge me with a sin? But chin tucked low and eyes held high I climb to where you gaze for a glance When I should be lifting it to the sky I fumble upon paper stilts for but a chance See me, as I see you, I plead But no, your spurn is what I earn This husk, not the shoulder you need Too old to change, too stubborn to learn You are the winter bloom The precious beauty in the cold The life in sullen room Catalyst from meek to bold Your fragile petals in frost do move This petrified hollow to yearn For that lost art once dubbed love And hope it lies beyond knoll or turn |