Rubble Slips Off the Hill

Although I have,
On occasions, found blemishes,
The wrecking crew has figured late
Into the apologies.
The dream is a distant enemy,
And I have found my own jeopardy,
Lined against the trope
Where rhapsody silenced
Its journey.
While the blur has become blue
And the blood has wretched hues,
On time after time
I have ruled
In my memory, many lines blurred,
Many times tread,
Rejected and rallied black and blue
To treble too soon
The sake to shade
My lesser blessings to bear,
To wait is to weigh

It trails me – my angst
And the aghast I have found
Many times, red soles in rues of yesterday –
The decay of old
Painted in ink, plied by rough roots.
Warming to roam in lawns on my own,

I infatuated come born
And the lone road travel with
And the range trucks on
I capture an angled mine
One I can hold.
So sullen the vapors of the room
I stare at a wall
And it blooms.
Rid of raid to do unto
And the vagrant air skills,
I loom over my mirror to do myself off gloom
And the rabid reef comes away
The distance becomes mine,
To sway, or to spade.

© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2017-2018

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