Saturday, June 30, 2012

The Final Poem

Thirty years after selling the farm
I still missed where my home had been…
I ached for my horse, the fields, the view,
A chance to hold my own dirt again.

I dulled the steady trauma of change
With a thousand bottles of wine…
New jobs, new houses and friendships
So many life changes in that time.

I discovered today for the first time
Young kids have lassoed my dreams…
Their futures are open to gambles and chance,
Mine sewn shut, with permanent seams.

Today,  I also woke up to see,
Where I landed and rarely toil…
Is smack in the middle of paradise
The dirt in my hands, my soil.

I don’t care after my passing,
Becoming a life that time forgot…
But request the keeper of this blog,
Move this poem to the top.

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