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I don't love to wander
A quiet shush of ebbing levanter
of calm drizzle, as we pray the rain to batter
she plugged her faith studiously in
the mystery behind the mist,
perhaps a soul to uphold her constitution
with his fist.
Young O'l Paulette
too young and naive.
An emissary of your innocent ignorance.
Reading a thousand books and scrolls, finally has made no sense.
You are as vulnerable as water beyond it's banks.
The smell of laurel lingers in the air
but on like beauty, it refuses to die
It swells like it has no fear
like wild fire, unbeknownst of the power of water.
As oppose to her,
I inhabit my cage
Holding every bars of rage
to my chest and face as they count my age.
I don't love to wander
But a bit of silent thunder
just enough for me to plunder.
©PerryDe'poet
of calm drizzle, as we pray the rain to batter
she plugged her faith studiously in
the mystery behind the mist,
perhaps a soul to uphold her constitution
with his fist.
Young O'l Paulette
too young and naive.
An emissary of your innocent ignorance.
Reading a thousand books and scrolls, finally has made no sense.
You are as vulnerable as water beyond it's banks.
The smell of laurel lingers in the air
but on like beauty, it refuses to die
It swells like it has no fear
like wild fire, unbeknownst of the power of water.
As oppose to her,
I inhabit my cage
Holding every bars of rage
to my chest and face as they count my age.
I don't love to wander
But a bit of silent thunder
just enough for me to plunder.
©PerryDe'poet
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