poetry

when kissed by less

Not all fights are with fists.

      One cliché may well say:
  Every day has its ever-nearing night;
    But it’s well-enough true in spite
Of all we might do just to cry-cringe it away.

            —

    Darksome rains,
          They’ll come.
        Worrisome manes,
      They’ll wet-whip in the reins
    Of a doldrum dreary.
              Unwelcome the pain
    May be and then some,
      But the wash of it makes
        Soapy the chain,
          And cheery-more is the heart
    Who slips from it.

            —

      Not all fights are with fists,
  Not all hope-dared dawns are cloudlessly bright;
    And when you’re kissed by less amidst it,
Wonder-long why you were gifted your children’s light.


Previous Post:
    Life/Poetry/Randomness: All The Tortures (Excerpt)
        https://windstrewn.com/2017/12/20/all-the-tortures-excerpt/


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