Byron Lee's Writing Blog

Requiem

It was all
In front of me.

Now, it's gone.

The fruit born of your mind was
Mine for the taking, but I was
Distracted. Thorns from brittle branches
Cut deep. Ants, given the
Power of bulls, ran roughshod
Through my head.

Forgive me.
For running from the
Passion that pulled me in. For stepping
Back from the table with my cards
Held to my chest. For wanting a tailor-made fit, when your
Off-the-rack ways suited me
Just fine.

I haven't been banished, but
I 'm not where I
Want to be.

All is clear when viewed
through misty eyes.