How It Goes Hence

Well-meaning silence of a Summer afternoon
Morning storms have blown away
Nothing but puddles remain, purging stories of pain
Luring nightfall astray, over rugged terrain
Mind flustered, in decay, colored a mellow gray
Rallying my senses into play
A public nuisance, in full display
Begging reality here to stay
Just a number of days ‘til I boldly display?
‘I’m feeling quite okay’
Engraved in name only, too soon yet to eat crow in pretense

Author: Emma Beane

"My history is still one of those mysteries I struggle with every day..." - [ebeane] ... All original works Copyright Emma Beane

8 thoughts on “How It Goes Hence”

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