At A Fork Poem by arqios k

At A Fork



for many a thing
we would often stay
a few others would
most likely detour
then lead us astray

for many a deed
are flowers after
a funeral march or a
get-away drive during
an explosive discharge

should we go and
leave behind, our
trophies and triumphs past
what's left's an orange rind
and a lonely sail-less mast

Sunday, November 6, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: musing
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