Poetry

Fall, as I begin to pray
It was hard until yesterday,
 
I feared what tomorrow,
might perhaps be.
 
Could be full of regrets,
or joyful as I see.
 
As I set for the great lark,
away I march from the dark.
 
Everything soon despairs
separates within layers.
 
Resting on the mud, I lay
it changes the whole, but today…
 
-Nr.