1:00 A.M. Restland Cemetery
Updated on March 12, 2010
1:00 A.M- Restland Cemetery.
The new year settles,
a white shawl on each blemish,
of last years deep scars.
Snowfall fills the flaws,
but my footprints mar its sheen,
past graves of those lost.
Here is where new years
should begin, amidst the stones,
that mark love's closure.
There is much to learn,
in this garden of people,
I cherish life more.
The car awaits me,
roads beckon fresh directions,
beyond the cold graves.
I drive aimlessly,
the radio plays auld lang syne,
and I hum along.
©-MFB III
No Wine Nor Song.
With amputated hands
and no more music
to be had at his fingertips
the veteran from
the senseless Iraqi war,
cradled the wine glass
between his stubs
and attempted to
drown his sorrows
near his dearest friend,
his baby grand,
but it slipped
like his life,
from his grasp,
and became shards
like his arms,
so he simply walked away,
to join the homeless,
and beg for change,
that he would
never be able to hold,
his entire wealth
couched in a paper cup
as he dreamed of the songs
he would never play,
and learned to count money
with his toes.
©-MFB III