For lack of a perfect summer
I’ll stay in winter’s arms
Let her chill my toes and fingers
‘Till they’re numb and warm

For lack of a kingly banquet
I’ll walk the streets and beg
Eat bread crumbs and be satisfied
Despite my hollow leg

For lack of a better jacket
I’ll wear a wispy dress
Let the winds tear through me
With their bitter caress

For lack of a certain someone
I’m lonely in a crowd
Water’s not refreshing
And thunder’s not so loud

For lack of a perfect flower
A field of poppies seems
A waste of a perfect meadow
The end of a perfect dream.

Copyright L.K.E.  All Rights Reserved.

Photograph by Grant Gannon

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