Everyday ‘scapes

I saw gold once, I loved it so.
But the blazen Sun, I forever disown.

In a ‘scape so true and full,
a cliff edged above.
Yet never I speak of the lonely girl
desperately in need of love.

Snow on oak- white and bright,
twisting, turning, gorgeous might.
Yet plain are the curls falling on half her eye.
And damn all winter for frost bites.

In that ‘scape so true and full,
was a roaring, raging bull.
Each man held it in awe.
But the cranky ten and four, to scratch,
has still too tiny a paw.

What we yearn for,
that beauty,
we’re abound in.
Then what is it that we truly yearn for?

Repose imposed everyday is a bore.
What water is to the camel,
it will never be to the shore.

© achillesheelpoetry, 2022