Dust

When we were young,
we would lay back and dream,
and become all that we wanted,
and I would often write them down,
draw all of my disguises,
catalogue all the names I had,
and hide the book under my pillow.

With fire in our throats,
and a stride in our step,
we plunged head first,
pausing only to take a breath,
before coming to realise,
that all those names and faces,
were everyone else,
and not mine to take.

So dark the horizon for some,
while a rainbow shined for me,
and shone a light where I could see to follow.

And now at the end of all things,
I can look back... and wonder,
what might have happened,
had my rainbow been black.

When we were young... that's what they say,
and always at the end of that final day,
struggling to sip and sit and think straight,
and here I am,
that same old man,
surrounded by them all.

And with the lights in their eyes,
I say my last goodbye,
and fly...

Author's Note

I will not get offended my your comments. Praise or attack me all the same, it all helps me to learn this craft. Cheers - JW