Jon Owens Poems

To speak of duty is to blind the blind
For such things are known to you and I
Of morals and virtue our stories are told
For greatness is earned when young souls dream old
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I once through a stone that bounced off a wall
It flipped and it soared and proceeded to fall
Down a roof at incredible pace
Then my dear rock hit me right in the face.
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I never once cared for a pear 
Reasons withheld for the better
I instead elected an orange
To become my fruitful endeavor
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The path of a warrior is that which is unseen
A Road untravelled, yet quietly familiar
A measured smell of inequity, and fear
A bitter path of longing, and dissapointment
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She walks with grace
That is foreign to me
Her dark hair in the wind
Her smile
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Would you take me with you
When wayward sands you find
When you stray from temptation
Would you remember to be mine
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Subtle glance was a butterfly
and truth was less of a thing
The look of you my darling
Was as birds take to the sky
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