in time, the hands will gravitate
towards the direction of this
circumference, our life, the years
we have endured past the hurricanes,
past the blameless rains of doubt;
no one else but us knew how to
decipher the words trying to push
each other outside the margins,
the lines we often fall from;
no other direction can straighten
the crooked path we’ve followed…
loveless, we die off from one another

© mr gahon 4/11/15


About mr gahon

poet... writer... culinarian... i like to work with food that appeals to the senses, write words that taste even better View all posts by mr gahon

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