Posted: January 15, 2015 in Poetry
Tags: ,


In my “IT” days
When I was on the “HE” road
When my Tabula Rasa was a Saint
Still whole and not defiled
Of it innocence with vanity

In my “IT” days
Hands stayed where they are meant
Legs were never hasty to tread
The eyes were of eagles borrowed
Pure and clear; never intruding

In my “IT” days
Dreams were yet blessed
And memories were still unborn
Peace was still a young naïve
Of glowing smiles that gladdens the ambience

Not until I tread my “HE” grasses
Then, my eyes; the unseen sees
The Tabular Rasa; of jargons filled
Courtesy of the orchard’s nurture
Now, my adaptive nature, succumbs.

© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®

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