Tragic are the days
Without a hand to hold
When love is miles away
And nights are forever cold
And as those days turn into years
Futility becomes our only lover
The heart begins to lose
Any chance to rediscover
We spend our remaining years
Sad and all alone
Without another person
To call our very own
And we regret the time
We wasted in between
It’s too bad our destiny
Remained unforeseen
© 2019 Michelle Cook
I watched each step
As she crossed that road
After leaving the safe shelter
Of her humble abode
Her clothes looked comfortable
With billowy cotton sleeves
And I suspected her socks
Were likely pulled up to her knees
Her hat was placed neatly
Atop a bed of pearly white hair
And as she slowly strode along
I couldn’t help but stop and stare
Her strides were shortened
By hips that dared not move
And her uniquely designed cane
Didn’t do much to improve
She seemed determined
Yet unhurried in decisive fashion
To get to wherever it was
Which was driving her inner passion
I sensed freedom in her jaunt
Though not of the physical kind
And I believe our brief encounter
Was solely meant to remind
For she made me think of the worries
The ones I cling to every day
And yet she so unintentionally
Seemed to leave hers miles away
I knew she’d discovered the secret
Found only in aging years
The one we all hope to find
To help lessen our irrational fears
And so she taught me a lesson that day
About my own life and who I am
And how I shouldn’t worry about the things
That I will never fully understand
I just wish I could thank her
For the encouragement she provided
It’s hard to find that these days
In a world so terribly divided
© 2019 Michelle Cook
Today is just
Another tomorrow
A chance to forget
Those long lost sorrows
Stepping back
From the fractured view
Leaving behind wild nights
Of a foolish hue
Summers past
Often filled with drunken rambling
All those frozen moments
Of risky gambling
Thank god those days
Are over and gone
And we’ve second chances
To finally move on
© 2018 Michelle Cook
Writing prompts: Fractured view, Another tomorrow, Step back, Wild nights, Summers past, Drunken rambling, Frozen moments.
The melodical swing
Of the pendulum swung
While posterity overlooked
All quondam had brung
And time insisted
Its lessons be learned
Yet immature neophytes
Were unconcerned
© 2018 Michelle Cook
For a full month of writing prompts, click here! The pendulum of posterity
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