Why is it that I’m standing here?
Whence came this now from yesteryear?
The road on which I strode has gone;
Where weeds now lounge was once a lawn.
Have I the nerve to turn around?
Would what I’ve lost be thusly found?

I had a purpose, way back when.
I knew where I was bound for, then.
My weight upon my lesser foot,
I forward did the better put
Toward glory! Bold, into the night!
To…what? It’s vanished, like the light
On this dark porch…dark…why so dark?
Oh, right.


About Michael

Silliness is good
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