With harvest moon comes bloated joy
Contentment on its highest peak,
My basket full of ripened dreams
Of desires picked and trees stripped bare.
When come the full moon night,
barren trees and worn out dreams
The basket lighter than the wind,
Empty but filled with anxious want.
With new seeds contentment dies
burns a hole in wooden weave,
Weight of unheeded prayers
Leaves behind a desperate stench.
Forgotten are the good and fulfilled,
I launch onto another road,
In shoes made from leftover gold,
Winter gone and Spring arrives.
With grass moon comes bloated joy
Contentment on its highest peak,
My basket full of ripened dreams
Of desires picked and trees stripped bare.
365 Poems Challenge 