Sorrow*

HAPPY it was a word I often thought of. A sensation I very seldom knew. MUSIC a comfort and a friend perhaps the only one. I truly ever knew. I sometimes thought it would be will I ever know? Yet unsatisfying, barely fulfilling, still it helps me on the road. Life slowly slipping through my fingers my eyes are filled with sand. Work a never-ending nightmare it fills me with unease. I would rather die neath the gentle quiet breeze. Peace I seek it on the mountain I find it in a shower. In the stillborn moonlight I slowly pass the hour. One less lonely person does the credit meet the cost of that never ending nightmare of that first real lousy boss. Of a dream that turned to ashes in the wind so quickly lost? Life is but a busy subway that the frail cannot cross. And in the gutter we can find them those that tossed the dice and lost. Copyright © Terence George Craddock