Bathe

Bathe

 

Bathe in the glory you are

drawing from difficult choices made,

wander corridors your pain has frequented the most

whilst sleeping shadows and out of the rain.

 

Regret from the depth of your soul

ignite warmth toward loves who endure,

the sufferance only a true face caresses

as you pose delicate for mirrors once more.

 

Sit peaceful waiting tides of acceptance

head laying pillows of thoughts from afar,

reaching through dreams for realities wishes

to embrace in the glory you are.

 

Bathe

©Nick Hawkins, all poetry rights reserved

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