To Another Sagittarian

What do I say to you that hasn’t been said before?
I no longer know what’s right or wrong, false or true.
I have waited on many a similar door.
And I wait.

There’s not much that I can say or do
That’ll make existential circumstances change,
Or turn the tide back to unravel some design
That helps to alter all that seems so very strange,
In Life that is universally yours and mine.

I had notions once, through my twenties and younger,
When I could not discern what was fact from fiction;
When all I knew of love was yearning and hunger
And I had not a cure for the heart’s affliction.

Experience teaches you as sure as time moves:
That all these doors you come to will be a given
And time itself always stands test and gently proves
Heart breaks cannot be forgotten but forgiven.

So I stand smiling before a door once again,
Just hoping to be allowed in and given rest,
And though I may have to leave, back into the rain,
I leave with memories I can count with my best.

The Road Goes On

how quickly lives can touch,
it does not take much time,
Just a bit of love, not much,
that molds a heart to mine;

there is a quaint sadness,
when time’s not on your side,
mixed with a strange gladness,
hope left behind to bide;

the road goes on, as does time,
hope moves on, the heart aches,
love promises the sublime,
but seldom gives what it takes…

What I Know

I have been here before;
I have slept on this floor;
I have counted each vein,
Left on windows by rain;
Spoken words echo through;
Each remind me of you
And you and you and you;
I don’t doubt all were true,
When you said them to me;
They filled this room, silently;
They seeped into these walls;
Each one of them recalls
How they filled a lost heart;
And stayed to never part;
But you did;
And I hid.

I left this place of hope;
I left this place to cope,
With what was left to me,
Quite silently.
I walk back now,
With a wiser brow,
And a sharper eye,
With no need to try
To weigh my mistakes.
(I thought there were none.)

I do not blame you;
Neither this soft view,
Through the window pane,
Against fresh soft rain
That is so known; yet
Such that I forget
Why I hid long ago
From this slept-on floor.