London Poem: Day 93

18 November

Heartbeats lead us,
But where that is
I’m not so certain.
We travel separate paths
In hopes of arriving at
The same ends.
Our hearts beat,
Though to what rhythm
Does your move?
My pace is steady
And true, moving
Without hiccup to
The sound of my design.
If you become waylaid
I’ll still wait –
Just promise me,
As our hearts pulse,
And find their own course,
You will meet me in the end.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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