Roaming

A field stands before me, before us all

where the tree’s loom ominously

growing by the second, wild and tall.

 

Everyone avoids the shade,

afraid,

afraid.

 

I tiptoe around the edges, delicate and quiet

nervous that, should shade find even the smallest patch of my skin,

I would have to start over

and wouldn’t know where to begin.

 

One lazy day, I took a nap near the brook

and when I awoke, it felt as though the earth shook.

I was shrouded in shadows, paralyzed with fear

I was certain that imminent failure was near.

 

Yet I trekked on, unafraid of the dark

and I learned how to roam freely,

singing my song

that could rival a lark’s.

For the shade was only temporary,

a teacher and friend,

and I am always embraced by sunshine

in the end.

 

 

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