Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Alan Berger

Even a King
That is going to break
Has not a clue of his impending fate

Any promise I hurl at you
Soon in time
Will turn on me like a screw

When the rain comes in
To shower my regret
I direct it to my dry dark place
So I don’t get wet

One last chance
Became one too many
It all adds up
With the good bad and blurry

I would rather be a year too early
Than one second too late
Then again
Nothing comes to those who wait

So I force myself
Thru this and that
And at the end of it all
It’s just me and the cat
We dig it like that


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