In a field of oleanders and magnolias
Crimson stains the pure, fertile land
We keep walking to the outer sand
Unaware of the feud that fills the air

Let it be, let it be
That’s all there is to say
I heard your voice
But couldn’t feel the words

Tangled feelings we keep
With roots running deep
No more room to grow
It was all part of the show

Fires eventually burn out
With or without anger
No need to stoke the embers
Watch them fall from the sky

Here’s to the memories that stay
And the ones that just fade away
A little longer to wear the crown
While roaming the ruins of our town.

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A poem by Jason S. Sullivan, 11-19-20