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Poem

bare wood, plain steel, fresh-fired clay
what is left lying around and about
the ream of handwritten novel notes 
dangling conversations, what can I say
lives transcending their meaning without
the human errors, mistakes, misquotes

that were wanted to straighten and correct 
the second chances, opportunities missed
if we could do all that we had desired
but left in hindsight are only circumspect
the bucket things we've left off the list
forget all the junk that had transpired

would we then go gently into that night
the importance of all the parts unfinished
at the final analysis just doesn't matter
maybe exiting the stage without stage fright
without final polish somehow undiminished
those things unsaid, some unfinished chatter

things mattered more back then in the middle
now freed of life to freely speak mind
simply felt simply known and simply said
things before, more of a Gordian riddle
so the rope is cut, such a tenuous line
things left unfinished to simply go ahead

© Goode Guy 2011-06-01

for a friend

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