We Press Flowers

©July 10th 2022, Olan L. Smith

We toss everything into the past, because

To mount the future requires other

Than we possess, unless we write. We scour

Territories life reveals, we cleanse the limits

Existence gives; we scream and shout the edge

That truth and scam afford, what facts uncloaked

Are real? Some people think their souls misplaced

In time, do they mislead themselves, or is time

A tangled ball of yarn? Perhaps to be

Is to be ensuing? Climb the trellis, set your

Vine. We press flowers between the leaves

Of tomes we write.