The Dash Between The Years

This complete life
Has been about nothing
But having it all 
Ripped away and pulled out from under 
Glorious arms and legs
Made stronger
Never getting a free ride from
The orange-striped vehicle of my choice
And it goes on forever
Faster, slower, stop, again


I will

Where was that tall, small white farmhouse

In need of my repair

I imagine soon the two bedroom windows

Will be cracked open a slight bit

To let in the night’s song

To let out the day’s cares

Old orange mutt sleeping on the job

Won’t hear the creaky porch swing nudged by the breeze

But I will

I do