When the magic is gone
and all the stars have fallen,
do I just sit and wait for my final calling?
Is there still something
to do, out there, for me?
If not before, then when comes destiny?
Ashes tossed, will I be known
as husband, father, son?
Can I leave this plane with things undone?
Fair poetry I weave
but words are falling leaves
and my soul detects an autumn breeze.
Copyright © Phil Capitano | Year Posted 2016