Wildberries

I want to remember what it is to be driven by your presence.

Shipped to the extremities. There’s no such thing as reverse.

I’ve shaped a new world around the impediments encountered.

But it’s the distortions and you’ll find, now, I’m harder to traverse.

 

I hike this direction , day in, day out.

Closing my eyes each minute to envision the end. 

My weight wears steadily and unevenly into the soles of your shoes.

So, the holes grow bigger. You’ve no clarity to lend.

 

I’ve carved my name into the bench. 

And watched the wind blow the shavings to the greenbelt floor.

Drifting lightly and simply though the waves of the air,

Dispersing into nothing more.

 

If you could chose the Texas blackberries or Pennsylvania raspberries,

Would the sacrifice to you be as dear to you as mine?

Could you push aside the thorns and accept the thin bleeding scrapes,

To pick that juiciest berry at the top of the vine?

 

What’s more important than the largest bowl or the pick of the litter,

Is putting in the time. And, so if I don’t give you mine.

 

 

 

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About Emmy

Cats. Dogs. Vegan? Philadelphia folk no longer. View all posts by Emmy

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