9 a.m.

9 a.m.

as the church bells chimed

Sunday didn’t find any rhyme.

found in yesterday’s thought

was an image i bought.

but now – here,

still found was the day remains.

through the Smoky fog smiling;

i still carry on.

the rainy mist sticks

as your memory passed by.

as hard it may be

letting everything i knew go

my hands slowly slip on the grip;

i may have inhaled you by mistake.

too many clues,

so many ways to lose.

winning cannot happen all the time

as i have learned.

10a.m.

as the church bells chimed

Sunday didn’t find any rhyme.

found in yesterday’s thought

was an image i bought.

and now – here,

the sun was found

broken

in a thousand or more pieces.

toes covered in the sand

cannot avoid the burn

as the pages continue to turn;

torn.

c.  2016  bgw