some meeting, a club, an organization
I’m obligated to, expected at,
donate my time for, too much time.
The late night radio, turned
down low, softly plays the old
songs of my younger self
and dredges up some old memories,
the ones that resurface
from time to time, the pain
and the heartbreak of a future
that didn’t happen, not
like I’d hoped, planned for
even. I miss those days.
My eyes well up now at an old
song, our song, and I shut
out the tears that would fall,
but they spill over, the excess
I can’t hold back, wiping away
the moisture on my cheeks,
remembering. The only obligation
I had was her.
No comments:
Post a Comment