Through the mouth of babes the day is winding and long
Each moment passing slowly,minutes ticking and loud
Walking down a path not yet known but to see the roads
At a distance with many trees swaying in the wind
Hearing the sounds of the earth bringing some kind of comfort
No pats on my back for good luck, no luck on this journey
I move forward into a time I have yet not created
Grabbing for shirts I have left behind with stains
Not wanting to throw them away but keep them close
Just the same, folded in the corner to remember my coals
My smoking gun still leaves residue on the carpet
Brown does it seem , not to vanish so I can remember
No desire to wash the memories
But to repair the plush beneath my feet
Slowly with time my heart drags deep
Making my journey long with maybe a happy ending
To fix my brown stains and have them happy once again
True sorrow never dies but lives forever to prove
Themselves once more , never-ending
Rebekah Owens
l@2009
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