Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Pathos

Why did I let
the stained earth heave and groan
foaming at the mouth
and yesterday’s roses to dry out,
their thorns piercing my skin?

Although I’ve escaped on broken paths
and posed questions to no answers,
this flight became my only life
and I mourned a lost full moon
as clouds never left.

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Prompt: a lingering fear or regret