We deal our cards as a form
of meditation
not knowing where life is
or love
He has a fedora and boots
and doesn’t play for money
just respect
She has a natural way
scattered are the numbers
she the sword of soldiers
that’s not the shape
of paradise but war
And all our lives it’s not
the shape of my Soul
she has the royal flush
i know the remnants of war
run away from your sword
carve the shape of my Heart
:: 05-11-2019 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 