Stand

Here I am

Walking out the garden

Twigs telling me I am wrong

There is no path

Outside along

Beyond changing seasons

Each working alone

In the brisk of sorrow

And sloth of eros

There is more to mourn

But with feet tied like this

How do you know

That something is amiss

The answer lies inside

For the mind is winter

And eyes search for spring

Soul wants a safe haven

Heart plunges for daring

Here I am

Standing out

A twisted thorn of sorts

Wishing for flowers

Fighting maggots instead