The Grass Is Always Greener
In a symbolic melee of defiance,
Rabid amber leaves scuff the callus stoned
Noon summons the arctic wind a tad honed
December’s mist embraced forced compliance,
Thought of you brother you free of science
Allied yourself to simply days unknown,
Hating maturity once we had grown
To delve in the darkness of alliance.
Yet a glimmer of hope our mamma cries
A lone star persists with the morning dew,
The young master soon to reclaim his home
Corroded by the other side he sighs,
The angels appeared offered life anew
Safe habitat for him that chose to roam.
© Harry J Horsman 2019
Copyright © Harry Horsman | Year Posted 2020
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