HABIT
Out of habit,
I open the door
of memory
in the old bag are roads.
Visitations, countlessness,
carefully packed
and sorted.
Out of habit,
I unlock the door of north
I walk with light steps,
lighting lanterns,
wick of a thousand centuries.
Out of habit,
I open the door
of memory
in the old bag are roads.
Visitations, countlessness,
carefully packed
and sorted.
Out of habit,
I unlock the door of north
I walk with light steps,
lighting lanterns,
wick of a thousand centuries.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me, SP & many other fellow Poets out here who find peace with expression. Words are powerful and because you took the time to share your thoughts here remember you're making a difference. Use your Voice to give back to the world!
Much <3 SP