Remembering aged forestshine
Wet leaves caressing the ground
Walking paths, learning the craft of wordless validity,
through the moon’s vividly painted forest-shadows
over this sweet silence and wilted leaf soil
Remaining. Now in a dawn without words.
Standing beside the edge of the woods as a secret,
as tired, failed and forgotten glimmered lumber
where sorrows always are in a temporary frozen
Remaining anyway. Stuck.
I am forlorn-embraced,
all too roughly ripped from this tearing uncertainty
unbeknownst my frail wild-strawberry time returned
and placed itself furthest away from un-necessity
Lingered on here under these lovingly sailing clouds
while these charming wild-strawberry in the green
stood helplessly faired in appeal after forgetfulness
Cure: Life and Death.