Once again, I trail back here,
instinctively I return,
after traveling through time,
from myself, I come to learn.
The flowers of my thoughts,
my mind's fallen fruits,
lie here for all to devour,
yet closely attach to their roots.
A palette of colours I besot,
from blood to white to blue,
some grey and black and pink,
all shades of me gifted to you.
Once delivered, the child leaves,
my writing belongs to me no more,
yet I'm drawn here once again,
to nurture a thought that I once bore.
Words written, old memories,
new meaning they have found,
my own thoughts have taught me,
my own self, has turned around.
