Ruminate On This
She has a proclivity in being jaunty
As she looks down the asphalt way
With stunted growth of apple orchards
That blossom in the spring
They begin; they begin
A carefree end
To what was swollen, bloated, and rotten
And wickedness emitting the fragrance
Of decaying smells of worthlessness
Across the waters, floating and wet
She catches the why and emulates the peacefulness
On cargo ships at heaven’s gate
And longing for the weight to be lifted,
And longing for the weight to be lifted.
This heavy clumsy mess
This heavy clumsy mess
Ruminate on this
And ruminate on this
Copyright © Paul Keenan | Year Posted 2011
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