Forever you told me;
“You’re not right you see”
And for every reaction
Were there not infractions
And is it that you qualify
Due to all those tears that fell from your eye.
Four scores and many chores latter;
You still travel the lanes as the hater.
And my breath it labors with tears of regret;
All words fail and forgiveness comes not yet.
The angels tell me this not the way of it;
And the guardians they encourage me to quit.
So I slip away to perhaps be forgot;
But never blinded or ever bought.
Copyright © Leonard Taormina