To a There

Standing beside
the lonesome road
looking back
and looking ahead
wondering where
I might be
if I’d taken the other
road instead

Wondering is
a fool’s game
it won’t get
me anywhere
right or wrong
just move along
until I get
to a there

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Days and Nights

You asked me for a secret
I gave you a lie
you never held that against me
I still do not know why
there was a truth we always shared
in a room so warm and dark
and no limit to the mercy shown
a scarred and weary heart

Oh, the days and nights of love
I’d go back if I could
to the months and years of love
when all was understood

Now you’re gone
it happens
and I do the best I can
sometimes I cry, sometimes I laugh
it’s hard to understand
and if I ever feel the need
to fill this void I feel
all the lessons that we learned
will tell me if it’s real

Oh the days and nights of love
when everything was good
all the months and years of love
I’d go back if I could

Oh, the days and nights of love
I’d go back if I could
to the months and years of love
when all was understood

More Minutes

Waking to the warble
of a bird at the feeder
gentle reminder
that the world goes about
its business without my help
luckily largely ignoring me

a number of things
I’d rather not do stand
between me and that
which I’d rather. Those
disreputable friends
our parents warned us about,
procrastination and indecision,
add a smirking peril
to the situation.

the blankets feel good
and history suggests
only a neglible difference
in the long run between
best efforts and no efforts.
What could a few more
minutes hurt, asks the devil.
But so much can happen
in the blink of an eye
I throw back the covers
and get up, with a sigh

Enough

There used to be reasons
I did what I did
instead of reasons I don’t
I seem to remember
I will if you will
instead of I can’t, or I won’t
not really that feeble
not really that frail
but the difference between
succeed and fail
is somehow too much
yet still not enough
for the get going it takes
when the going gets tough
so I lay low until
the urge goes away
living to goof off
another day

Reminders

All of this dying
reminds us to live
all of this losing
reminds us to give
all of this numbness
reminds us to feel
all of this hurting
reminds us to heal

and the memory of your eyes
and the touch of your hand
reminds me to thank God
I was once your man

All of this bitter
reminds us to be sweet
falling down reminds us
to get back on our feet
confusion reminds us
of all that we know
all of these flowers
remind us to grow

And the memory of your eyes. . .

When Your Sword Is Drenched

When your sword is drenched
in the dragon’s blood
and you’ve reached high ground
ahead of the flood
the maiden has been freed
from her great distress
let no one say that
you aren’t the best
remember these deeds
and that they were true
even on days when
the bear eats you

Oddly Innocent

Worn down smooth
by the waters of time
like stones in the river
patience redefined

should you dig them
from the mud and dirt
you may find crisper edges
that are still unhurt

by universal whimsy
and it’s emotional toll
oddly innocent surfaces
on an old and battered soul