‘Can I handle the changeable seasons of my life?’
Perhaps, that is question that will go unanswered.
But in brave retrospect, I would like to try.
More than a generation has been spent with you in my rear-view.
And, this tough skin, I cannot undo.
Turning over the day terrors, like a wounded penny in the palm of my hand.
A recluse to refusal, heading down the wrong route.
It took a lifeline to figure the obvious out.
The demure, pastoral, scenes for justice to see.
A mother, dainty, shuffling morals with biscuits and hot tea.
A grievous misrepresentation for witness’s at a yule tide party.
Yet, behind the scenes, a question unanswered,
‘where were you?’
Thus, in retrospect, I had conceived it all wrong.
the Auld Lang Syne and…paternal swan song.
So, it is a resolution…I can do
I will not opt for a route around the woods.
I will cautiously pick the trail that goes through.