Other Things

 There are times when I need a distraction

from days, heavy, when there is no satisfaction.

Yet these days, to climb above, seem so high

and with every step, time just seems to slip by

leaving so very little –hardly a trace

of what once existed in that place,

one’s secret, sacred room – memory’s hoard

where all of  one’s experiences are stored.

Sometimes offered up in times of reminiscing

of what once was, but now seems to be missing

in a life that now only offers up reflections

of times of love, of joys and of rejections.

One try’s, and offers up their very best,

for others, only having been their guest.

Life’s journeys ?, life’s adventures ?, a quest

to become as one, to be whole

but in the end !, never to know

what lies beneath, never to show

where it is ?, that we surly will go.

B. J. “A” 2

May 16th, 2013