Oh how I wish I could bury my worries in theses waving grasses,
The sky is so wide and blue without stain or wrinkle.
Gently pressed clouds seem to fit even with their ragged edges,
But not me,
I am an intruder upon this peaceful scene.
Like a bit of colored canvas ripped from its frame,
Wishing to be matched upon a new scene.
Frayed edges catch and snap in the wind,
Pulling me to where I wish to be.
Yet beneath the layers of paint, grime and canvas,
Lies a beating heart the color of mountain, field, and sky.
It cannot be seen without a painful and final end,
But within me it undeniably beats willing my layers to change hue and consistency.
I wish the impossible would happen,
Then those around me could see why I linger when my looks don’t belong.
So please leave me be while I continue to walk this path and scene,
While it changes me to my ends.
Let me stand in this field so alive,
That my parts and pieces may heal.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.