The lilies grow;
the eggs - they hatch.
Summer snows;
I have a batch.
The life is long,
but steep indeed;
what want of freedom
is my need?

The grass is green,
and on the moors,
the crickets sing,
a swallow soars.
The streets lay empty,
mind the stores.
We'll leave the rain
before it pours.

Again and over,
repetition.
Sweet surrender,
sick submission.
Faith is fear
without religion.
Blunt the blame;
quick, the incision.

Meadows quiet,
heat is held on
a cottage silent
as a felon.


Release the dogs,
the hound is free.
The flowers fade
like memories.
The grow, degrade,
oh, just like me.

Loved it as usual.

PP...Awesome...Can never get sick of reading your writes...

nice

Awesome pp, hope things are well for you