musing kennbivins

Bedside or roadside, life ebbs then subsides
Bleeding from inside, drivers all just pass by
Yesterday or previous, part of some great ‘what was’
Vultures circle up above, ashes to ashes then dust
Newborn to carrion, I mourn while I tarry some
While life ends and new pretends, I will carry on.
kenn.

I stuck my hand in a thorn bush
To follow what was free
Then painted a pretty picture
With the color that would bleed
I sat on the doctor’s couch
And he said to stay in the lines
I told him he was ash to me
My colors won’t be confined
My offspring are as promises
Pigments in rich oil
My imagination, she always sits [...]