“..hardly hedgerows, little lines..”

Melancholy musings must
As everything, regress to dust.
All things return from whence they came,
Doth my memory the same.

Sparks of Spring-blessed childhood.
Early risings and cool dawn grass,
As sunrise amplified reality
Granting tiny temporary kingdoms
To my imaginative keeping.

Barefoot child I,
Twixt river and orchard wild,
Would careless spend my day
Full of mud, fruit and fae.
Until as is wont, up I grew.
Something one should never do..

raindrop

I could stare for endless moments
At fallen crystalline wonder.
A diminutive drop of nature’s boast,
Reflecting and refracting.
A miniature masterpiece,
Slowly sliding along chaotic
Sway and flutter of a breeze blown leaf.

I look at this droplet and cry.
Raw and wracking sobs that shake
The very core of me.
For I am chaos, and I am ruin.
I will never feel within myself
The calmness of this perfect thing.
Complete and simple.