It occurs that I might be
Replaying same game
feeling so righteous
piles of plastic used by me
scheming refusal to say
these things are really waste
Prairie Rose flower covered in dust
Hot dry summer, with no cloud going by.
Waiting by the roadside, futile beauty, it seems unjust
Those pretty unseen colors; Soft muffled sigh.
Budding in the Dakota sunshine
Pink summer’s blossom, thriving all alone.
Yellow eyes unblinking set in a harsh design
Roots in sandy soil and littered with stone.
It seems like a squandered struggle
A wonder gone to waste
But I was there to appreciate the trouble
Those others had missed in haste.
red on black
wasting time today
black on red
Days of indecision and drifting currents cause an eddy to lament
Swirling pools of thoughts, considered then pushed aside.
Calm streams offer no challenge, just relaxed consent.
A journey squandered; life’s thrill has been denied.
– Clarence Holm