Poem – “Which Direction is Right?” – Modern Romanticism – 1/25/2022

Off track,
behind the times
of everyone else’s smiles.

Fill me with blue,
remind me of the sea.
Elevate me with the moon
while the sun goes to sleep.
I can run around,
toss around
while the earth jogs its mile.

Into November,
where eyes can remember
the speech that told a pattern
in the leaves.
The fallen, scattered.
As those swept within
were against the grain,
were sun-blocked,
were in pain.

A pair of lips
brought me clues.
A set of arms
carried me warmth.
I fled into the sunrise to replace it,
to answer to the eclipse.

What road do I follow?
Which path will not appear
so ruined and shallow?

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