Wilderness
The crumbs never led home.
There was no turning back,
no do-overs. The gunshot rang,
the race begun.
The race to tomorrow
where better would beget hope,
hope beget promise,
promise negate yesterdays.
Grass greener, longer, lush with
strands of dew strung
for the strung-out, like water
dropped from a hypodermic.
Wandering through wilderness
in seach of another song, a new tale
so that happily-ever-after
might sweep out all the pain.
But the detritus still blew
down the sidewalks,
down through a life spent wondering
what happened to the crumbs.
Copyright © Sue Mason | Year Posted 2009
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