No Place To Hang A Hat
Did we make a name, my sweet
Or was it just illusion
Little whispers of heavens grace
Marred by our confusion
Our words fell out of order
Spilt ashes to the ground
The winds rose up to claim them
And blew them round ‘n round
Passions stirred and altered
Mixed bitter with the sweet
No chance of resurrection
The story's incomplete
The fate, that I was given
Is separate, not the same
No room for indecision
No patience for such games
A decade in the making
A wisp and then it's gone
It slipped right through our fingers
When it couldn't find a home
poem by Leria Hawkins
Added by Poetry Lover
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