How far apart extremely can my contemplations go
One month shooting in the sky, another diving low
Several months of seeing no more future, cold and dark
And now my sight's erupting with a gloried floral spark
I dare not ask for equal happiness to be allotted
I suspect in retrospect my brain would be besotted
Through those months of hopelessness I begged to be destroyed
A steady cease of any grief would apathy deploy.



November 20th, 2019


Photo Credit:
Tom Heinze