Hind-Sight's Blind
P Patti Masterman
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She and I, though more alike than not,
Agreed to go our separate ways;
While each alone, chewed the memory of bone,
And turning with our thoughts, that lathe.
We could not stay together in one room;
The air was not sufficient for the two,
And though was me moved out, I knew she was about-
But knowing nothing better, could I do.
Now I find, the other was the kind
That in secret, forced the chasm- wide.
My grief swells more- since time's a thief;
And hind-sight's blind- to closed minds.
March 27 2015
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