When “Where to go? ” <br />And “Gone” <br />Collide <br />A perennial in remission remains. <br />Under sod, soot and soil <br />In wait <br />Till the embers of winter <br />Lose warmth and fade. <br /> <br />Until it’s useful, <br />Or when outsides back in style, <br />The seeds will sleep <br />And dream in dirt <br /> <br />Of matches in an oil lamp, <br />The earliest questions <br />And the flaws <br />Of fundamentals in regards to the human spirit <br /> <br />It’s thicker then a Nananian quilt <br />And stickier then <br />Popsy’s pipes, when they say <br />“Find time to bide, <br />It’s so close to time”<br /><br />Ben Wannamaker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/plateaus-on-higher-heights/
