Time is short no matter how long you have – that’s the truth as I see it.  The trees and the sky bid you hello and goodbye; your heart and soul laments, “my my.”  You can run through it quick – with a kick, is one way to pass by; missing the roses and Moses, thee’s and those’s – all in your quest to fly high.

Down, sometimes dirty before you’re thirty; youth gone somewhere without repair – age lines, past time – too much good time had by all.  Curtain calls as you fall; back upon Mother’s distress breasts.  Home again for a blink of love’s caress; singing to high heaven that you didn’t deserve – this!  Give me more time – your heart whines; you’ll see I’m not that kind.

But you missed your mark near forty; ancient and old tales make you wail, what’s a mind to do?  Let’s talk – me and you, about summer days, sexy ways – of tea gardens and tree houses touching the sky; when I was small and shy.  When I knew not the “why” of living.  Forgive me again, dear friend, how I must seem to be ungrateful – though not the case.  I just couldn’t help myself.  There was just too much to taste.



Copyright (c) Frank Doughton and Roads, Paths, & Trails 2015.  Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.  Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Frank Doughton and Roads, Paths, & Trails with appropriate and specific directions to the original contents.


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