literaryfiddles

[literaryfiddles]

WHERE THE GRASS IS GREEN

a poem by Tasi Ihri

I pass through the meadow there, where the grass is greener, the sky is clear, and meet the widow, jolly and fair, who beseeches me to return to my forest where,

the sky is darker, the grass is grey, where piddling are the ones who dwell in there, the treacherous branches in which they hang their heavy heads akin to their fallen crowns where dwell defeated kings and queens alike, ergo i refuse, but she cites,

“I beg you to run, beg you to stray, any place thee wander, be better than where, a widow begs for her fallen soul, which once was jolly, once was strong, where the branches know no plea, they shatter any sense of glee.

I refuse again, for i know, the grass can’t possibly be greener on the other end of the show. I refuse and in certain might, she leaves me to stay, leaves me to fight.

I watch as she walks away, a whisper of white, a whisper of nei Ergo, as fate predicts, the wreath of white now besieges my head, with a shattered crown, as I stand in her place, and bask in her sound.