In these times of continuous lockdowns, mental health gets to a point of over boil as it were. Thus verses that arise stem from the mental state and thus my writing begin to take form of strange or maybe confusing words. All that form the poem that you see below.
Weeping willows, falling trees, Waiting patiently for one to sing. Their song where all scatter like bees, All in the mind, unwound like a spring. Strawberry fields don’t last forever, Rain that pours, like tears of joy. But all it seems, is just a dream that sever. Things corroded, where none employ. Expressing feelings not told before, Like ambition run short in the mind. Shot like bullets in a field of dreams, Ne’er seen just impressions of a kind. Nightmare stories like untold feelings, Locked within the mind unheard before. Like blinding lights from deep again sing, Thoughts or unknown waves once more. © Pat Fitzgerald 2021
I Hope that you experience better times and get through lockdowns better than many of us are at this time.
Until next time Please stay Safe.
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