The Way

“This is getting harder now
I’m tired of trees and air and water
I despise nature as much
As it has abandoned me”

My belittling smirks anger him
He returns to his pages
For a bit and then his despair
Comes forth and submits

Beside the small blue lake
With white pages strewn about
His eyes towards mine
And my lips parted in speech

I remind him about
The Red Wheelbarrow