Discontent
2009 |
Querulous, discontented days…no tears, too late
The lines of joy on his face are sharper, shorter, deeper
This is his zest... more valuable than he thought... but not there yet
No more tears... too late
An old muscled wolf carefully climbs this forest hill its bristly grey hair stiff and wet in the moonlight
If you always ask the same questions what do you hear?
Stops, stares, sniffs...
How will you ever trust anyone again?
-February 15, 2009-
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