Reminds me of the story about the threadbare stuffed toy that was loved-to-death…The Velveteen Rabbit.
I’m tired of listening to my own thoughts, so I can only imagine how you must feel reading them.
I know what it is important in life. Love – family – serenity – service – enduring friendships.
I’m burned out on the wheel though.
If I had a magic wand, it would put me somewhere with a future. A chance to spread my wings and not have them operated by ‘must’. Must fly here – must fly there – must not touch the light.
I wrote this poem years ago, and it’s become a metaphor for what could have been.
“In memory of …” the tomb began,
I could not read much more.
My loss engraved in cold grey…
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