Some mad portal
Always seems to appear
And I find my way
My failures seem always
To be failures of perseverance
When I turn away from the path
An hour or so
Every day
On the bench
By the shore
On the edge of the fog
I wonder why
But I think I know
That bridge has been enough trouble
For us
No
For me
Maybe just for me
Even before the fog
Then I turn forward
Take the next step
With a clearer vision
Of the trials and adventures
The path ahead promises
Now I walk with a gentle deference
Listen, when I might have spoken
Forgive, when I might have challenged
Let go, when I might have held on
I can let
The consequences
Lay where they come to rest
Or
I will wash away
The tears of my last failure
And gather myself up
To have another go
Continued from Enveloped.
Impatiently.
A mother knows these things.
And daughters always think they know better,
When they hardly know themselves.
I love the man.
She never understood that.
He is derisive,
Angers easily.
You’d be wrong.
It’s about a photographer realising the shot he’ll never have another opportunity to shoot could have been so much better.
