Easily done
If you’re a draught horse,
Or ******* pulling a cart,
Or pointing a gun,
Or under a yoke.

I’m fine staying here;
I’m not moving on.
I don't want to.
Such advice as, You need to move on,
Sounds cheap, pithy and unaware.

What do we know about moving on?
Or moving up, or out, or in.
It’s decisive and aggressive.
It’s a judgment call.
It’s supposed to be good.
A learning experience.
For whom?

This is what I don’t need.
I have enough friends.
I've met with enough romances.
I won't move on.

Move on.... Indeed.

There once lived a gal whos name was Eve
she was married to a man named Steve
she owned a pet spider
that she called slow Rider
quite often he slept inside her sleeve      

Brushing their toes as he crawled aside
there were so many places to hide
inside her white bonnet
without fuss or a fret  
Spider-Rider spun dreams made of hyde

There once lived a spider named Rider
so great as a friend and confider
night was so much brighter
when he slept beside her
together they slept all the wiser

By: Mystic Rose

Time melts away like
a Dali painting,
and my mind flies north;
a Canadian goose against the
loose gray sky,
freer than any man's ever been.
Yesterday, I was a
melancholic little one, feeling all of
Seasons in the Sun, on the radio.
5 years old, in the
backseat of my mom's black Plymouth.

Mom's gone.
Dad is too.
I'm getting old, but I will
never stop searching for that
gold in the heart.
I'm finally the simple prairie man that I
always longed to be.
I smell the autumnal night, and it's
nothing but cattails and bass from here until
that big orange fire paints the
west end of the lake.

Next to my computer desk, a battery
driven wall clock audibly ticks away each
expired second, "Tick Tock, Tick Tock,"
In the silence of the room, it's every measure
clicking like muffled somber drumbeats.
Sitting today the clock a foot from my ear,
I placed my fingers on my neck and found
a perfectly matching heart pulse beating
"Thump-Thump, Thump-Thump repeated.
Clock and Heart together paired in perfect
synchronization, an inescapable reminder
of the fleeting precious time that remains.

Each second, minute, hour and day a
cherished gift.

his touch is tentative but full of want
he pulls me gently to him
I do not resist
I am an autumn leaf teetering on a twig
I am a soft bud opening
petals dripping dew
I am a blazing ember
disintegrated by flame
cleaving in two
sparks spilling free

he leans in to my upturned gaze
kisses me sweetly
my fate is sealed