dpbowman

The posings of a poet.

On the Eve


Take a breath meant to relieve

Though still trapped in the web we weave

When first we practice to believe

Our way is best and so deceive

Ourselves and the memories we’d retrieve

Come now, a moment here to grieve

The scars our words are sure to leave

Should we not rather attempt to achieve

Yes I know I’m judged naive

A space wherein we offered reprieve

From judgement and attempt to conceive

A conversation where we did not aggrieve

Each other’s self and thus reweave

Opportunity to take a breath meant to relieve

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