Walk XXII

Take me somewhere nice so I can sleep with ease.

Walk XXII

By: Chase L. Currie

 

Somewhere beyond the

                Dead Winter Trees

Pass the hidden graves

                Of a bleak past

Where the Ravens dare not fly

                Where the rain makes you

Smile and not drip with sorrow

                This Poet’s heart writes

Gleeful notes of flowers

                And not charcoal ink of a

Smeared soul lost

 

Somewhere beyond the endless

                Race to be the Better Angels

Of a wicked Age

                Where the good bleed those

Who dare stand for the Truth

                Nailed to a Dogwood Flower

 

Somewhere beyond this

                We smile at each other

Over a steaming cup of coffee

                And I no longer wish

To hold your hand

 

Somewhere beyond this pen.