Life’s a series of crossroads!
Foot of the mountain stuff until my end.
I learn from small things,
like shutting up and listening.
When cupids arrow found its mark
I lost my virginity for the countless time,
That’s when a poets feelings pour out onto my page.
Often times tears are my ink.
‘Joy is hard fought for’, will it last?
The ink will spill and stain, it’s called life,
It has to poor out, if the load is to be lighter,
A floating dimension of my thoughts exists,
The big man in the sky speaks to me in encrypted verse.
Providence ‘like a carrot before a donkey’, drives me on.
