With Relief
Each windy waking night
I rouse and retire
the years grow around me
the time tucks me in
only to,
cautiously tell me to be alert
over and over again
the pendulum of pace
the irony of the earnest
and the cracks in the eyes of the observer
those tell-tale lips
that tell no more
the notion of that old story
new now, will be old again
you know how this ends
why speak it
live it with a sense of relief
By: M. MacMinn
www.markmacminn.com
