long after

a friend asked me
how it is
that you sleep
after all you put me through;
and I said that
muddy waters don't
usually run very deep;

I guess I could be kinder,
and concentrate
on all that was good;
on everything that was sweet;
but that thorn
is still stuck in me;

still workin' its way out;
the sting may be gone,
but the wailin' of the torch singer,
well, that mournful sound
still lives on.

April 24, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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