no one around on that cold grey morning
to hear that single, final sound;
although it came with plenty of warning,
no one saw as he slumped to the ground.
all of life's fears and tears collected:
stored up like sad songs and letters;
too much that died to be resurrected,
leaving seemed so much better.
joy, always a mystery, now history:
the good overtaken by the bad;
an old heart, turned to blistery:
leaving too soon, just too sad.
did not have to be this way,
but maybe it always did echo
silently, while the world went away:
maybe yes was always just no.
questions with no good answers:
sunlight tries in vain to show;
gone is the last midnight dancer,
off to see the rainbow glow,
off to see the rainbow glow.
February 8, 2009.
Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.