Extricate Strings
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For soap, he had headed to store,
With Hope, to wash away his yore.
A little bleep was all he needs,
He took hot tea to soothe his sore.
Potter's hands were rebuff, he heeds,
From dealing with such rough clay beads.
He chose to dismiss their skilled palm,
He'd had much of the pain and seeds.
He was the one with the alarm,
Onetime cold and then by love, warm.
Life is held in with tangled thread,
He pull and shook till overwhelm.
Wisdom couldn't follow the pot core,
With fate and death, tied to his cord.
Written: May 09, 2022
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2022
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