BP ( / Sioux City, IA, USA)

Wayward Son

Lay me by my mother,
as I go to meet the father.
For I could never feel,
the warmth of her embrace.
Because my soul was ever,
in another place.
Now my days of hide and seek,
are finally done.
And it’s time to lay to rest,
her wayward son.

by Belle Poe

Other poems of BELLE POE (4)

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