These Trails
These Trails
These Trails
These Trails
These Trails
These Trails
These Trails
These Trails
These Trails
These Trails
These Trails
These Trails
I sowed a seed in springtime
Sun shown
High hoping it would vine
Its roots to draw much wisdom
Its flower to be mine
Come now notice this seedling
Needing
Tending
Its young head bows wilting
Its stems fends not bending
The soil I chose proves stale
Sand frozen fragments prevail
Rain ceasing such thirst paining
Sun eclipsing seeding dying pale