Trip - my poetry

fepgryuq2p.jpg
image

Trip

I trip over goodbyes
that lay in my path
like roots on a forest floor
I can never seem to lift my feet
high enough to step over them
My clumsy heart always catches
on moments of parting
and as gravity takes hold
I beg the ground to spare
the small part of me that still
has enough courage to say
hello

H2
H3
H4
3 columns
2 columns
1 column
2 Comments
Ecency