Confident in my being, satisfied with life as I am living it today.
Leaving others out of my boundaries, preferring not to be hurt by their insensitive remarks and comments.
Always taking me apart, never wanting to accept me as I am in whole.
Losing out on many conversations, joys, and close friendship with me, preferring rumor and gossip instead.
Cutting away leaves of brutality, trying to discover their interior purposes before they expire in pyres of fire, burning away the facts of living on parallel universes.Hitching together, symbols of solidarity as I climb mountainsides towards eternity with a hopeful heart emptied of sorrow.
All in all a pleasant evening at the Wagon Yard.
So many images coming into view, now slowly disappearing within coffee’s black depths, leaving me writing this poem in memory of this little episode of bubbles with my morning cup.
Sliding boards braced tightly to the ground.Sun heating steel top rungs and part where kids go down.Sandboxes sifting silently to themselves – no children within to imagine they’re something else.Playgrounds are a happy, lonely place when as an adult you return to them.
beckoning to me from images of long ago.Forgotten? Never.As I travel through life, listening to the beat of mydrum, I feel strangely attuned to beats of all pastrelatives, echoing our memories so I’ll never forgetthem either.Life is a series of reminders based on happier times,now thought of with gentle sorrow.
Then you have to pull yourself up out of the mire so you don’t stagnate and lose your mind.
