Baker's Dozen

There’s a lot of years painted on the wall
even a lot of tears I never wanted to fall,
but the paint is holding on, 
gaining an aged patina
from weathering the weather
of it all

Pictures drawn in chalk upon the pavement
make swirls of pretty colours
even as the rain takes them down the drain 
and I don’t want to be there
if that happens

So I close my eyes and pray
that you will never go away
and that this hole I’m sitting in 
never gets so deep
that you can’t reach 
the tips of my fingers 
any more

And I think about the things
that I didn’t understand
and I wonder if 
and I wonder why
and I wonder how it ever came to be
that there was ever room for me

But I’m holding
a baker’s dozen
and I’ve never felt so blessed
and I may not ever truly fathom why
some things are just meant to be



april 2011 



 



Awarded by Poetic Constellations ~ Di