P. P. S.

May 30, 2018

Don’t flatter yourself

You’re not so bountiful a tree

As to satisfy the cravings

That keep me tasting time


My wonders burn deep

My wanderlust deeper

A forest of the most succulent fruit

Could never tempt me to take root


Do not fret

I am no vine and you are no tree



You are a branch I perch upon

Before I take flight again

Made of Sand
Not Dura, but Alaminadura

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