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An Escapist's Poem (Dedicated to the Leaves/previously "Ode To Escapists")
An Escapist's Poem
(Dedicated to the Leaves)
We always pick the flower for no
Good reason,
Like an insect from a plant,
'tis steady 'til—gone!
We always had seen the sky
Like 'tis the glorious blue color
Then we often see how clouds move.
Something we remember
Now that our lovelorn past had
Paid its price, in this moment—
We falter, we forgive, we abnegate tomorrow
For our precious accident
We learned to measure strength and
Weakness in terms of cordiality;
Lest we may never go home,
Midstride, to the forlorn eternity!
