Wild Things
Alden Powell
Wild things are not born;
They are grown.
They are hard to find,
But impossible to own.
They grow in places
That are not places,
But gaps in time,
And empty spaces.
The wild things grow
Where the fire starts
And where the lovers go
To bury their broken hearts
Wild things grow,
Where the rivers run dry,
Where the rain drops fail to fall,
And where the tide rises too high.
They grow in the place
Where things go that are lost,
They grow in the spaces of your heart
Where life has had a cost
They are wild,
But they are not free,
Their roots hold them there
Like those of a tree
Wild things are stuck;
Forever in the places
That are only gaps in time,
And empty spaces.
What is wild,
Cannot be free
For wild,
They will always be.