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Poem

Sitting alone staring out the window at the frozen air 
and slate colored sky with every inch of the desk
covered in stacks of paper like strata of life.  
Book shelves impossibly arranged so that no one would 
ever decipher  the code of the last 30 years.  
Wondering what happened, but knowing it didn’t just happen.  
It was the long road taken to this place where the bland stale
toast sameness of life had become boring  and without sweetness 
or flavor. All of those years now behind and the memories all that a
are left to mock.  
What to do now, hotshot?  
Now that this is all that has been accomplished. 
All of this and nothing.  
Which drawer did you hide the bottle from yourself in?  
Seems so long ago, but was really not given how many years it 
kept you company. 
Let’s explore those drawers and see what can 
be salvaged of the past.  
Let us toast you 
in memoriam…

24Jan14

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