It is the saturation of this quiet night
that has me rest upon laurels of the day.
A thankful respite between embers of thought.
A desperate search for desirable hindsight.
Such Thoughts that shape into constant playback,
the want to change a permanent past.
While reason's logic lies frozen still.
This soul upon the floor to spill.
A seepage into cracks of life.
To quench the insatiable thirst.
To feed a gentler kind.
To lie down.
I would go to the wall for you.
Even take a heat round,
DEAD center in the chest.
And like my father and his father before him,
walk a country mile in the rain
bare foot, backward and uphill.
A one time possibility,
just to be CLOSE to you.
Nobody is perfect and the only
time mistakes are not made is
when we are dead.
Then to hold you I would
have to be dead SOLID perfect.
Truly, I just do not see that happening.
at least not in this life time.
Until this earth swallows me whole
I will continue to replace the old
flowers with the new, and kneel down
next to you in silent prayer.
Wishing before God and possibility
I were more DEAD CLOSE and SOLID.
Thoughts gently skewed into focused understanding
Laced like fine wine, fresh and taintless
as the leaf...
Once sweet in '79.
Where hills divine, lay frozen beneath the dawn
In spinal rapture pose, of fallen grace
that captures the soul.
Memories that recall, inspired by name in timeless view
for a distant home, In quiet voice which beckons
from Devils Backbone.
To slowly pierce into the fragile mind
so wrapped in time, bitter and no longer sweet
as once was the leaf...
back in '79.
tired, emotional, late