On striving

 

Wringing the last drops out of life

in search of a silver stream of happiness,

squeezing the juice from a ripe peach

hoping the sweetness will last,

we glean the scraps looking for gold.

Only those who want little,

whose desires are rounded by a trail of trinkets

will sigh and let seep into their blood

the red ink of sunset.

Wanting something words cannot say,

I grub and delve among dark roots,

while overhead, the dancing sky-flowers

call wistfully and race

over the edge of oblivion

without me.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

22 thoughts on “On striving”

      1. He has to have this own chapter, because he’s a card that’s for sure (or they say ‘he’s a pill’ also in the South and I LOVE both expressions especially said in Southern Drawl).

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