May 17, 2016
If I dare not speak,
Then, will I gaze in tranquility
At that for which I yearn.
You question how I write.
Of that,
I am unsure...
I write as if words are precious stones,
Tossed into the air,
Land in disarray..
Nonchalant, without a care.
Such gems,
What symmetry in their facets, In their flaws.
Words...
Are leaves falling from the trees.
How ironic,
When the branches fail,
When the trees, they're gone..
When words,
Are leaves unhomed,
Undone,
Where will our stories be?
I humbly ask,
Where to will your words they flee?
A futile quest, I know.
Nonetheless...
I write because..
Tears are of no avail!
They leave,
Disappear..but!
My words will cleave,
Like lemon tartened bits of honey!
Bitter...
Sweet!
I write, for I must!
I must, for I can!
A future remind,
Of what made me man
ADVERT for what I was listening to when I wrote this. enjoy
About the Creator
Victor Mendez
Born in 1958.There's a lot of road beneath these feet.Worn out pairs upon pairs of shoes.Been a ranch kid,a city kid,a Marine,a dad, a grandfather now,an avid reader and just recently began writing poetry in 2015 just to vent.
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