The years pass
In two’s and three’s
You still are as you were
Softer, harder
Not bitter, so bitter that
No one calls or visits
Or wants to talk to you
You are given a choice everyday
Where you want to go
What you want to do
If it is to be enraged
Yet one more day
About what might have been
You are free to do so
But the years will pass
In two’s and three’s
Walking the treadmill
Money in, money out
Sex maybe, food always
Death upon death upon death
Pick the dandelions while you might
Blow them into the wind
-Copyright C.M. Mounts, April 2017
Genuine. Stark and generous. “In two’s and three’s” feels good, like handfuls of foliage as one wades through the thicket. A powerful and conscious pivot by which to effect a change in direction.
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Thank you Karla! Just letting myself out into the world finally. I appreciate your kind words.
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