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I have made many mistakes and I have given up when I could've fought longer and harder. If I would have dug my heels in plowed through perhaps I would have something to harvest now but I don't. It seems persistent winds have turned my seeds and heavy rains have drowned them out. Where I stand is muddy. I'm sinking in doubt where sprouts refuse to show from wrinkled furrowed brows I wait. Through beaming rays of yesterday, today and tomorrow if I have to. I don't want to believe my struggle was in vain.