Someday I may move past this,
shed these thousand thorns of regret.
Till then I need to bleed some more,
move though no course seems set.
Someday when my feet feel freer,
no longer burdened by bitter betrayal,
my hands may yet write lighter lines,
a happy end etched to this tragic tale.
Somehow she may see me smiling,
with these lips left cracked by frost.
Shall I see her smiling back at me,
my great good girl gone, girl lost?
Somehow her hands may find me,
each embracing we would hug.
We will shed sadness, suffering,
cast aside with simple shrug.
Somewhere she is out there,
does she sit sadly thinking of me?
Haunted by merry memories
of how happy we used to be?
Somewhere near yet out of reach,
– can’t hear, can’t see, can’t touch.
Does she sense how much I miss her?
Good girl gone I miss so much!
Someday I may move past this, shed these thorns of regret.
But not today, not here, not now.
Copyright © 2016 Philip Craddock. All rights reserved.