Sweet thoughts turn sour on the tongue
Poising all it touches,
The bitter pill never goes down,
Instead languishing in the mind’s eye.
No road less traveled,
The sharp brambles of the untaken paths
Cut and entangle dreams
Bringing them to heel
As they cower on their knees
Devouring unspent tears from yesterday’s sun.
Wild strawberries now overgrown
Lay unpicked with bowels long rusted
No tiny hands to hold them.
The smell of the albatross masked
With each new morning’s dawn
That churns out empty hope for the
Last leap home.
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