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