Like a river, life flows on:
sometimes for spite–
perhaps in fight or flight–
at other times with wide ways clear,
and still at others, over roads
all rubbled with obstruction. . .

when foundations
are destroyed,
to fill that void
requires careful plans
and deft, deep reconstruction. . .

this must be often done,
(and it isn’t always any fun)
while you re-invent each wheel you need
since there’s no one left
to turn to
for instruction.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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