Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Napowrimoday 13: for insomniac dreaming

 She puts the lie in believe, she puts her tongue in her cheek

Her warnings unheeded. She never regrets and frays at the seams

Her ends refuse to justify her means 

She always remembers her dreams but never the meaning.


She's start dust and grit from the road and she can't stand being told

What to do. She's a show-and-tell story with old-school

Guts and glory and she refuses to step forward if it means two back

And maybe that makes her a fool but the terms are her own. 


She spins tales like yarn and there's baleful truth

In her face as she trades in stories, fancies, and prayers

Nothing to her name but cup of tea and an open flame

And when she takes to the trail, nothing but ashes remain.

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