, , , , , , , , , ,


Heartache, old friend,
pull up a memory,
let’s sit by the fire,
drink a toast to the past.
Remind me of dreams
unfulfilled, unforgotten,
soul without substance
denied ’till the last.

She’ll blow me a kiss
as the train leaves the station;
twin silver rails
lead straight to the stars.
We’ll do a few orbits
buzz constellations,
perhaps a layover
at Venus or Mars.

Bring out the map
of trails untraveled,
of paths not pursued,
and deeds left undone.
The time’s growing short —
tomorrow comes early —
left the last sunset,
I’ve not yet begun.


Image: http://buff.ly/1NIAk4J

Buy my book for $0.99 — proceeds feed the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home; Conversations with Street People