The Visitor

photo-1562612692-20126aa98069

arrived

no calling card,

a bit disheveled –

didn’t talk a lot.

He left with his dinner-

only a crumb lagged

behind.

He didn’t

warrant memory,

but he remains

on my mind.

I imagine

he appeased

the Wind,

complimented

Torrential Rains,

grimaced as

he blessed

the Infernal Sun.

Temporary,

he was set upon –

set upon

to rile our interest

tantalize our interest,

and be gone.

04-30-21

I feel like a visitor in my own life. I have abandoned my former existence, more from a level of succumb than desire. I have embraced a new life and emerged quasi triumphant in plotting a path to growth. Yet, my heart longs for my roots. The tangled winding rooted path that will only reveal its route when least expected.

1 Comment

  1. Nice poem but maybe your comment at the end was not apropos. One should never look back, only forward. You have done what many people wish they could do—create a new life for themselves.

    Like

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