porch

| January 3rd, 2006

all 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

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