I enjoy writing poems
Without a destination
Like a hike never taken
a wander into woods
Pointing out fragrant flora
Odd Fauna slippery rocks
some river’s hidden current
that I’m still floundering in
to make any story worthwhile
I’ve got to keep a promise
To the reader
I will have something to show you!
The destination could be a simple
Flip of a switch in a dark cave
A rare dusty thing brought to light
or as dramatic as a cliff jump
hooked to the parachute of a feeling
a fall down a rock face
covered in even rarer flowers
a glide across a rage of a river
and the gentlest nestle of a landing
unto the sand of a new world
yeah . . . that’s where this should end!
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