my life was
a promise
of everything
with the
reality of
less
decades passed
and piled up like
old timber
in a neglected
meadow
out back
occasionally
someone
stopped by
acting
interested
in the wood
they came by
like the
years and
i always listened...
but they
just talked
that's some
good old
timber there
they'd say…
ever try to
sell it...
i used to
i'd reply...
but don't
anymore
no one
wants to pay
whatta ya want
for it
they'd ask…
nothing
i'd say...
just take it
awhile ago
i looked
and
the old
timber was
still there
like me
it has
learned to
be at home
out back
in the meadow...
Bobby Jameson Feb 28, 2011 edited dec, 2014
