Robert Fulton Laird

Tore

Too slowly twirling 'round me,
again—
are touchable pleasures,
and pain—
That I take for granted,
than, enjoy or learn.

Life, give me more to welcome—
less fright at every turn.

Minus lessons, anymore—

For I'm now done with punishing me,
a gift I can't explain or share
but, bravely now, explore.

Than a few times gain here,
safe— forever tore.

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