I don’t frown,
shadowing concrete
and crunching leaves,
all about this small town.
I’ve made my bed.
I’ve paid our dues.
I spared your doubts,
crowning another’s head.
My rose bushes aren’t burning.
But I am lit fast,
like a match,
burning through hours
as if I own time.
I’m enlisted,
unafraid,
adorned with a love
that cannot be detained;
it’s too pure.
For the first time
in all of my life,
I am finding
what all this was for.
5 responses to “Branching Out”
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