A day is a stitch,
In the quilt of my life,
Each bad one a do-over,
So many, I am always running out,
And away, don't leave,
Don't fear the Reaper
Just the Seam Ripper,
Middle name "Jack"
A Polish day tripper,
News to me,
Bury my head in the sand
Of a kitty-kat litter box
Choices and
Life ...
All bad,
This is not a hobby,
That comes after
I keep begging for mercy,
my hands reach for the rafters,
Moon shines bright and white,
While grasping at stars,
With each failed rewrite,
If they edit my life,
Will I be found ever,
On the page.
Or scraps on the floor,
Or balled up fists of paper,
Heaped in the Forgotten Corner,
Behind a Western door,
That faces East with Hope,
but that is not her name.
She has a page of her own.
The miles lined up end to end,
Like silver tracks, leading...TO
where on the page.
Earl Grays misted friend, ON
to find my solace, my friend.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
A day is a stitch,
In the quilt of my life,
Each bad one a do-over,
So many, I am always running out,
And away, don't leave,
Don't fear the Reaper
Just the Seam Ripper,
Middle name "Jack"
A Polish day tripper,
News to me,
Bury my head in the sand
Of a kitty-kat litter box
Choices and
Life ...
All bad,
This is not a hobby,
That comes after
I keep begging for mercy,
my hands reach for the rafters,
Moon shines bright and white,
While grasping at stars,
With each failed rewrite,
If they edit my life,
Will I be found ever,
On the page.
Or scraps on the floor,
Or balled up fists of paper,
Heaped in the Forgotten Corner,
Behind a Western door,
That faces East with Hope,
but that is not her name.
She has a page of her own.
The miles lined up end to end,
Like silver tracks, leading...TO
where on the page.
Earl Grays misted friend, ON
to find my solace, my friend.
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