Clement went to Paris and never came back.
They planted an orange tree and called it his name and it grew
in wintertime; in the sleet and rain,
in the summer and fall it bloomed again.
The tree grew fruit
every year sweeter than the last.
‘He is not lost
For who he once was and had been in the past-
For he has gone to Paris, and now,
he is famous in the streets and popular on tv.’
What say he?, Clement, who was
up one moment and the next,- away he went; away away away he did go.
Everybody knows.
And never did he come back. And never did he come back.
About the Creator
The Piggy Project
I’ve had so many names in this life I lose track of which ones were ever really mine and which ones I wore because someone needed me to. Some were handed to me before I had words to refuse them, before I knew what they meant, before I knew I could say no. Most weren’t meant to hurt. That doesn’t mean they didn’t leave marks. Marks that told me who I belong to, who I am by way of who claims me, recognizes me in the good and bad, who walks beside me.
By Fatal Serendipity2 days ago in Confessions
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