Taking a stroll down to the village wrapped in a mystical fog
I trip and, from my muddy landing, see it was a log
My shoulder, is it out of joint? My lip bleeds a stream of pain
Should I be surprised the skies decide to open up and rain?
What a day it turned out to be, what a day to discover
What a time to learn I can’t trade it for another
What a fallacy to think of life so positively
As I grope about so blindly through this reality
The doctor is out, the assistant tells me it is just a sprain
So I race toward the station to try and catch my train
You may guess what I missed, indeed by mere seconds
The empty tracks symbolize my lifelong empty lessons
What a moment this time befell
As my sprained shoulder shrugs oh well
I give up and turn to frustrated apathy
Should I perhaps invite it in to abide permanently?
The walk home drizzly as I gnaw my leaking lip
The slight incline prods muscles to seize around my hip
Passersby splash mudpuddles upon my weary head
How I long to be at home in my cozy bed
What a dreadful normality, what a dreary day
What a shock for my arch nemesis to happen by and say,
“The train you missed, my dear chap, if you were to catch it,
I had planned in my benevolent way to finally bury the hatchet.”
Did he know my limp was at its worst
My shoulder’s drooping like a curse
An oasis I can see but not achieve
The promise of forgiveness taunting me
What a notion of perspective sight, what a mixed emotion
A mermaid floats nonchalantly by as I am drowning in the ocean
A full life, full of disappointing me
The blood in my mouth tastes bitter of the iron in irony
By Royce Waxenfelter
11.15.23
No comments:
Post a Comment