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Friday, January 27, 2012

The Echelons

As I get older I see the dreams
that soared through clouds of mind
the daily hopes
turn into a lemon's tart
that no amount of mental sugar
can sweeten
These moments aren't bitter
just soured at the edges

I see no chance to celebrate
with my own days of dance
My freedom to look up
and sense the sun of my life
has been submerged in the dark
of another's closing door
While I continue to be
the light along that edge of darkness
I dim into a visual whisper

These bandages of buffoonery
surround me in a binding
that is no longer loose
over old wounds and sores
the smiles and jokes that hide
the sour and sorrow
It is as if I see a hierarchy
of self-inflicted pain
the echelons of failure

Copyright © 2012 by Barry G. Wick

1 comment:

ed said...

That's good.