poem: rising spirits – 29/06/22

Taint my skin with sweet molasses

the sweetness a scourge

overrides the senses

a narrative spoken

a tale long shared

abstract metamorphosis

the thick syrup

clings to my hair.

Do not wonder at the analysis of yesteryear

it is long gone

yet they all keep resurfacing

is 2022 the year?

The year for spirits rising

tell me this: the tone, is it worth

minor energy spent,

my time for them they are a-calling

I feel like it’s just a time pass

and I hope they’re not hoping for more

wisened up,

here, no longer illiterate at

being street-smart

far more confident to the core

I can see far more clearly now.

© 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

Image from magwood_photography on Pixabay

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