Seeds Of Rejects (From Trails Of Their Own) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

The wandering times that never came
Vapor of the forest and autumns gone
Leaves from humid earth and hidden aim
Silent bouquets picked in interim dawn
The nothing of gold clay magical thorns
Leaping streams of forgettable retrospect's
Everything waiting in its acorn
Not to be remembered - seeds of rejects

Times that are like never - though always
Shadows ascension in visional dreams
Covered by verging blooms that is alone
Permanent tenderness casting their rays
On incessant sand and dark water streams
Invisible fabrics and their blockade stone


(- under construction -)