Acquiescence Poem by Fallen Pieces

Sitting; pondering
Wind against my face
its fingers combing through my hair
You think I'd pick up the pace
But instead I sit; imagining
My troubles dissipate
Emanating the loss & wear
with open arms I race
Simply hoping
Courage to fill my lungs
Numbness to stroke my bones
Speed to muffle the sound
Leaping; I pray
Thy soul to find the sun
Thy body; converted stone
Thy essence succumbed
beneath thy very accession