Trail Thy Tears
Woven alone, worn out in, scrapes in true grit.
Wrought Draft, drought nautical, tide bees buzz torn.
RIP away, living stepped stops, barren in dye doubts.
Serf poetry, word worth, festering open wound boil.
Who dost thee echo, thy hollow owl, shrill night mare?
Headless plight, whips backward, rips rake forward reign.
Coming going gone, will mired swirl swill, ferment laments.
Aghast still skeleton moonraker, furrow dew ply, quick cement.
Quill silver silence, stilled ocean pool polish, rides reflections.
Midnight marauder, black sails, limp listless, thee trail of tears.
Time creates no wake, awakes no sounds, bound in glued silence.
Laminations rail deck, wail thee horizon fraught, Trail Thy Tears.
Home of the American HeArtMosphere Poet
Love ya!
Jane
Ron