One, Two, Three
The storm is clearing and the sun is trying
to show its glory.
Its like love, reaching to touch my being.
Can it touch my heart
through the shell I wear ?
Should I be a crayfish scuttling along
some muddy river,
so it can not touch me ?
Now looking back on true love
through the stains of time,
faded from the years.
I step out into the rain,
maybe it will wash it away,
all the while I'm remembering my true loves:
One,
stolen by the unsightedness of another driver
in the days of an innocent youth.
Fate did not keep me innocent long.
Two,
romance became misery as she held the bottle,
instead of my hand.
Divorce was mine, as she remarried her bottle
and took it's name.
Three,
We were meant to be together,
a blessed union of our soul's till,
the agonizing wind of addiction
swept her away, faraway.
Divorce and heartache caused sorrow,
sorrow has married self-defense !
They all still talk to me ?
One, from the beyond, like it was yesterday.
Two, in vivid dreams that seem so real.
Three, out of the blue and when she comes down
from the clouds.
Self-defense has become self-reliance,
as I wait for number four to come along.
Copyright © Mark King | Year Posted 2006
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