spirit

rest now weary flesh.
the soul must travel alone.
hundred acre woods.

my bread and butter.
green and moldy and rancid.
famished for success.

the violin whines.
the song of my soul muted.
shiver the quaver.

penny for your thoughts.
dollars for your written words.
from mind to riches.

darkle has no spark.
There is no glimmer in gloam.
The earth’s sighing moan.

the worm bites and turns.
the apple falls from the tree.
still the tree stands strong.