Later On

it’s always a later


seems we want to cry

rivers flow to an eventual rise

where all of our dreams lie.

We haven’t figured out


how some words might be callous


while others have a natural heal.

Timing seems a phenomena,

for if right now,

we cannot imagine an outcome,

then later,

the tears, the rivers, the natural process,

seems ready to cleanse.

We wind ourselves around legacy,

trying to build,

asking to frame,

when then we suddenly realize

our dreams are shadowed in fantasy.

When crossing the white lines,

I often wished

to be taken away, without freedom

I became edgy,

just able to make it back to the curb.

I would dance for you

at this moment,

if what I come to realize later in life,

could offer sweet immediacy.

Please I would love you to share words, suggestions ...

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