Ramble On

A story on digging yourself out.

Through crisp air,

before each grey morning,

on the chilled grass,

and before the pink sky rises,

A charted course is ahead,

Plotted with lines,

Seen before,

and what you give,

is cheerfully taken.

With nothing in return,

as that sky becomes blue,

the dig continues,

the hole deepens,

A new path plotted,

The route to the other side.

Hope, luck, desperation,

A growing cyst,

In need of a lance.

To get out is to go back in,

Hastily laid on the table,

More is given,

The black sky creeps forward,

Closing the hole dug so deep.

If only there's more time,

To recover what is lost,

The odds were with you,

You didn't care what it cost.

Don't look up, to see what is gone,

It will all change now,

If you continue,

And Ramble on.