1. Where I’m Going From Here

CheneyDaily Grind0 Comments

Five years, seven months, and six days ago
I sat with a notebook and wrote a poem, 
scrawled a scared story over lines blurred with tears. 

“I’m afraid that I’m running out of time, and 
I’m running out of words, and 
I wonder what there will be to write down 
after you are gone.”

Well, you’ve done been gone, my one and only 
and I’ve grown gray without you. 

After a youth of poetry, spilled ink on 
any acceptable surface, 
I found that I didn’t have a muse, I had a well 
and it was you and you ran dry. 

Time, time, time
is not on my side. 

So I’m standing on a proverbial shore, or 
perhaps its more of a starting line – 
it’s here, and I’m going to go to that place over there now, 
don’t you see? That place over there? 

That’s where I’m going. 

That’s over you.

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