Fivefivefive
Driving and thinking of my friends that are gone.
I weep for them because they have died to soon.
But they come to me alive and free with their secrets.
I see them when I close my eyes.
The tattoo we got is fading.
I'll be back.
I can't speak but the man on the corner knows.
I hold up my hand and make a peace sign.
I stutter and most don't want me around when they are getting high.
Crawling on the floor searching and the peepers lifting the blind.
I paid through my soul and with fear.
I'll be back
And that fear of not finding blinds me against the wall.
Reluctantly I give another piece of darkness.
I have learned sign language as again I hold up the peace.
The man searches my face as he bends down and reaches into the trash.
He hands me two and I soar home and its clear.
I'll be back.
Copyright © Patrick Cornwall | Year Posted 2012
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