Bountiful

Being brought from here to there
has pounded cold craters
all over my being.
Their absence in my life
is essentially the quintessence
of their negligence.
Pure delight is derived
directly from our
cries and laughs. 
What cheers up the scare crow
when the birds
sever their buttons?
Why would the vines
and branches recognize
my swollen eyes?
Some naturally pass by
and hardly slip
a passing glance.
The vines and branches
naturally erect a mold
around my troubles.
But when the loving ones
bountifully absolve their
responsibilities for my disabilities,
Bountiful is what
is bountifully absorbed
absolutely dry.

RATE THIS CHAPTER!