freight

sediment drained to the bottom of the glass

momentary thoughts, that are not meant to last

saguaro that shadow, in afternoon sun

the full moon rising when this day is done

leaves from mesquite, that spread far and wide

the soft evening sound of the whispering tide

what once was close, is once more adrift

slipping away, from a now open grip

how quickly it comes, and then floats away

once shiny and new, now dismal and gray

it's not that I've changed, or now want it back

it's more that now finally, my life is on track

I hope you rest easy, on the choices you've made

not that you'd go back, if there was a way

separated by streets, but in the same state

finally rid of the baggage, or more likely freight

Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License