Renunciation

he speaks in

sifting amber tones

and hazy smokes of blue

of his renunciation

he no longer cares for a grey sort

of life

and is heading for those

far and wide

foreign shores to make his own way.

well, they say blood that’s spilt

often falls straight down

and heavy summer rain is a

seasonal transgression.

I play the piano as a little artist

and go to find my spring . . .

 

Added 10/07/13

 

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