and the beat goes on...again

the fowers droop

but refuse to fade away

like the tannish-brown fields

reflecting dreams held 

self-suspended pugatory

while a four leaf clover

struggles through

the cracks

of a well traveled 

sidewalk

stained with faded

footprints 

of blood

that has been shed

and must 

be redeemed

through an infusion

of renewed 

determination

to live free

or die trying to be.