Lessons Time Taught

a creeping sentimentality arises now

for the golden times i lived, before;

amid the late night scrambles and the compromises

that pulled my shutters closed. the drafts at the door

siphening themselves 

in through the dark.

each fistful of words made less sense than the first.

and the last, so trivial, it ceased to make a mark

on what i knew was a life temporarily cursed.

and i clung to the little arms 

as they ticked 

and chimed

knowing full well because of the harms

that this square peg was incorrect. We were

plenty of reason 

but without rhyme 

and certainly lacking those coveted harmonies.

The butterfly in my stomach made my hands stir

that delicious concoction of desire, devotion and diplomacy,

those vicious foes, 

whose dream of love 

could never overcome 

the selfish woes.