Wrongway


He gazes silently
at the space; at her face –
The pride and joy of the tribe
 
He listens intently
just in case; forced to brace –
An artistry not described
 
He absorbs the courage
from her will; brave until –
Her love evades his heart
 
He weeps with the forest,
feeling ill; can’t fulfil –
Fable of the colour chart
 
He was promised a wife;
Is this her? Much prefer –
He could love her with his soul
 
He is the wrong skin name;
Ought deter; debt incur –
Flowers die in the dust bowl
 
His old people had to of known
Did not say; did not prey?
The ancient curse is bestowed
 
The terrible sickness
lead astray; souls decay
Spirits sacrilege erode

© Leroy Wilson

About Stayne

Welcome to my page and thank you so much for stopping by. I feel honoured to share some of your precious time. These are just a collection of thoughts that have popped into my head and I have managed to store here. I am hoping that one day I will find the time and inspiration to return to these thoughts to edit and craft poems out of them...ah maybe one day.
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