He remembers when he rode
of majesty's emotion.
Flying high, he lived within the sky.
Love was on the rise and he was free.
Now shaky legs still sway
the dry and dusty sands of time,
worn down by feats of endless repetition.
He feels as if he needs to say confession.
Absolution never comes
to those who live in secrecy.
How was it that his loving came undone?
Silently, he cries himself to sleep...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2002 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .