Rising Soul Poem by Edwin Robinette
Rising Soul
Insideous pockets of depleted air
Scattered throughout shifting soil
Noting a brim of mental reflection
I no longer wish to toil
With extreme provided wisdom
I play a brand new game
Spitefully, I bide my time
In effort somewhat lame
Eventually, I win no war
With slow deliberate pace
No task left of unfelt indecision
I leave without a trace
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4/24/2024 10:43:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Great poem, love the last stanza, good rythmn to it. HG: -) xx