The rock
Like clay
Tortured
By a
Toddler’s
Hand
Like clay
Tortured
By a
Toddler’s
Hand
I try to remember
The slightest disturbance
I suppose that says a lot
About my life
It is no different
With the cycle of life
And death
And rebirth
The burst of amber
Draws the eye
With its shameless
Brazen vibrance
A yellow stripe
And smooth asphalt
Winding along
The rocky shore between
I find the rhythm of being
Of a battle
And a castle
Shrouded in grey
But
For fires
Raging
And my loved one
There
Life threatened
Come inside
It’s warm
And dry
And cozy