I remember the
simple memory of
my outdoor self,
Who calls the mountain
his brother and dances
with the trees of green.

Then, things go wrong.
I do not anticipate
how to tread in the
soul of the confused.

I refuse to think
what hurts me more.



About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Ordinary.

  1. colorinourveins says:

    love this!

  2. brinkling says:

    I really like the first and third stanzas, but I’ll admit the second one was a little abstract and confusing for me. Overall well done though!

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