Ordering Valium From Overseas What am I?
Just a pigment or the tiniest of leaves
On a slender branch I cling, the tree of life
To be blown by the impulse of the wind
Hope my fall’s among the flowers of the night.
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An unknown and unheard of wasteland voice
In a far away corner of a planet
But surrounded by meadows of choice
Always bowing to the beauty of a garnet.
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But a single annotation on a score sheet
Of a grand almighty symphony of mime
Or a speck, a dot of a limitless upbeat
In a place and a destiny of time.
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Only this my wretched heart at present knows
It’s attached to some perplexities forlorn
In the everlasting hunt of blissful rows
Those that tell about no mirth nor human mourn.
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Variation from a poem by a dear friend http://blog.leedsforlearning.co.uk/wp-cron.php?doing_wp_cron=1597280972.3584189414978027343750 Peter Lim
titled “What am I?”