porch
| January 3rd, 2006all these sobering thoughts
and the pen feels so distant
the beauty of nature
snow upon these leaves
all nothing . . . fading
it dies
-
a lifetime of waiting
for a start
of working toward a moment
where I can begin
letting all this go
fresh chances and a new name
a way to see myself
again with innocence
not shrouded by deeds
and passing thoughts
of uncertainty
all this too familiar
an old friend
or enemy
come to haunt the
black hour of
this verbal dissention
a mockery of wasted
time