Everything is often equal parts.
Part good, part bad.
Part full, part empty.
Never a whole.
Not all bad.
The memory left
is the true taste.

Just a few years,
Not nearly enough.
But it was my life.
The time to which I
always go.
The time of which
I dream.
How could it be my world?
So limited, so full.
Just a bit of time.
My purpose.

Restless sleep;
Frustrated pillow tossing;
Tangled in sheets with kicking feet;
Let it be outside;
Quit soaking through;
Tearing at me little bits;
Inside job is robbing me
of  piece of mind.

So it soars towards the moon and stars;
It lights the sky with bright showers.
One beautiful blast of color after another;
each catching the gaze.
A sorrowful glance, if not full glory;
The ones that strike the further distance
get the "ahhhs".
The ones that burst with different colors
win the crowds.
Aren't we all just firecrackers travelling
our life - making our mark.
But in the end, we are all the same,
just a trail of smoke and cinder.

Not always what I say matters;
Trying always to push happy
in the air;
Humming to hide the care;
People want nice and pretty;
Life sometimes heaps the bad;
Yelling in my car with the windows
up tight;
My time of peace is acknowledging
to myself;
The trick is not to share.
Because most don't really care.

The promise of something good,
Beyond the summer storm;
An especially good piece of chocolate cake;
But tonight, its something about to leave;
The feeling of tender loss;
The wind can't dry the pain;
The rainbow won't arch above;
The taste is bitter sweet with
What could have been.
But what was,
hummed the crickets,
Thrilled the soul.

Don't spill the full;
Wriggle from the top;
Scramble from the bottom;
Make each minute count;
Sip it, don't gulp it;
Boldly eye before the jump;
Sit upon your hands;
The time is resting;
The fate is waiting;
Hours last so long.