Hold me firmly to your bosom
Lest I’m torn by expectation –
I’m a sapling, roots just taken,
Don’t rip me out before my rain –
In time, we make our way to
Making -within our bounds of given talent –
To lift economies and economic clout, with
No measurable impact – ah, but
Such are aggregates, my dearest Karlton Marx –
If I could hear the silence
Of a cold, majestic mountain,
She would whisper softly, softly to me –
That the mountains never age;
And that living sparks will never fade
Until they burn their fleeting fuel
Of will.
Kelly Vinal
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cycle/
