I corseted myself and left home
early in my dawn chasing dreams
still running their loops
from yesterdays
to tomorrows.
Traveled miles and miles in
the dark, going and coming
sorting the whole way
piles everywhere
composing
decomposing.
Signposts
didn't amount to much.
Home still feels so far away
a dream
we must
dream
to travel these twisty roads.
If only we could avoid the unpleasant twists!
ReplyDeletethat last stanza is so evocative...home of the feel home can def feel so far away at times....the piles of composing and decomposing as well...you can tell much by whats in them....that is for sure...
ReplyDeleteI love woodsy turning twisty roads. And can never stop from following them to see where they end up...:)
ReplyDeletewould we live life differently if we knew the piles we were composing throughout our lives eventually decomposed? we make so much out of seemingly trivial matters - these things occupy our minds throughout our days. and in the end, they - like these piles you speak of - as many signposts - don't amount to anything.
ReplyDeleteyour words help me to shift my perspective to those things that do matter.
Dreams running their loops ... piles composing and decomposing ~~ we must never stop dreaming.
ReplyDeleteYour touching poem makes me cry now -
ReplyDelete