Splotched Speckles Favourite

ink scratches on paper tears smudge the words scribbles and nibbles for wisdom and love meanings flow in and out of consciousness and thought emote passion and wonderment a path of no return as it stands as poets we don’t go but flow with musings and feelings reason and reflections condense and prise open the poet’s cradle weeps gently rocks doubts and composure envelops discards and contains everlasting impermanent time weeping willows inhale tears cosmos flowers shed smiles weeds become herb gardens as a tomb stone beckons in my warm grave I’ll be happy if mourners wear orange and purple when my epitaph becomes prologue and I hand on the pen and a torch when worms sift through the debris my coffin rots and gives birth to soil kind memories may keep me going and proceed with my journey 26th November 2020 written for the contests 'where do we poets go'