I have wings,
but no feet.
I am escape,
without retreat.
I am surrender,
but not defeat.

I've cut open the corpse of this love
So I could crawl inside to survive
The eternal cold night of this loss

I like to take a second to think about the things I say.


Unfortunately, this usually tends to occur after I say a thing...

Go on check your watch
see the secondhand racing
to the final hour

sunlight's strung the bow,
and the kiss of the wind strikes
the waltz of flowers.

My almost grown grandsons
see only a stooped withered
old man when they look at me,
no clue of the young man I used
to be. Or where I have been, the
things I've done. They've only
known me like this. Even 20
years ago, when they were born
I was already a senior citizen.

In my mirror I also see what they
see and can barely recall that
once upon a time younger me.

Time moves on leaving erosion
behind upon mountains and
people too.