Inertia

House of Heart

I was not meant to

toil the thickness of prose

or suffer the madness of time frames.

Wisteria climbing a wall

in good time  seems  appealing.

Pooling droplets of rain

in folded leaves of broad faced  hollyhocks

tracking the sun or dormant buds sleeping

beneath winters hard earth awaiting

the  call  of a nightingales

song is alluring.

In  time passers-by might find beauty in me,

a reflection of nature.

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