by Richard Milton Grahn
Walking through fields of madness, pretending all is real. Picking blooming flowers of sadness, descending deep into their scent. Feelings grow in the waving grass. Teardrops flow from the evening sky. Rivers rise. Daylight hides. Just stormy clouds are left inside.
The wishing well is full of coins but still I stand here broke. Broken heart, broken soul, just token pieces left to hold. Chains of rain bind my brain, just thoughts of you in the misty haze…wandering through the cold dark maze, I’m searching here for the light of day.
Insanity might set me free. But I won’t get lost in this endless field. Forgetting you might ease the pain as petals fade in the pouring rain. But I’ll just chase my follies through the autumn leaves, pretending you’re right here with me. Caught in the gusts of a troubled breeze, I’ll bend with the grass till these feelings pass.
Last updated November 08, 2017