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Number One, out of Three

Number One, out of Three Sadly, badly is the way I handled it. Things were falling apart, nothing fit. Leaving it all behind, I hit the road. Neglecting responsibility and the load. A hundred thousand miles upon wings, Soaring all alone, a Thunderbird sings. Slicing the air, a sphere hangs, a beautiful smile looking at me, all the while leaving mile after mile behind, ever distancing the shattered, broken heart. No plan, this man raced towards the future, a new start. All the while, with heaver heart, not seeing what is ahead, ((not looking back at the heartache I caused )) instead, just kept on flying, speeding across this vast land with nothing but moments, so many memories in hand. Number One, out of Three, cares, in spite, is there for me. Hind sight, what a nemesis to carry, then, a time to see all the  fragments, the wreckage of a life you left behind. Among the debris rose a flower so rear, so hard to find. How does one reconcile ?, face that which goes around, comes around as he traverses the last mile, above ground. How does one find answers, find a melodic, cohesive sound that brings Two out of Three, in line with The One, who found forgiveness was the door through which, would guide her above all the pain, uncertainty, anger and open up her heart to love. B. J. “ A ” 2 January 12th, 2018

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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