Simple
The stolen day,
The stolen minute,
Beautiful as a blooming flower
I procrastinate, throwing burning
Expectations in the air, stars of failure
And rebellion. I’m not the man you know
With far-reaching plans and prophesy,
I am no reader of palms and notes and
Guidelines, I’m a simple man wanting
A simple morning, a simple poem budding
From the leaves of self-made Eden,
If only,
If only,
Simple weren’t so damn difficult…
Copyright © Ph.D Volo Von Wolfenstein | Year Posted 2012
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