Crash Course

“I’m here to make people feel better.”

He said with an insincere grin

I could tell by his haughty demeanor

His concern was the eighteenth pin

 

And not the impending procedure

This doctor insisted I need

While touting his role as a healer

But not his addiction to greed

 

They said, “You’re the last of this session.”

Then rapidly reamed out the guck

And gave me an indelible lesson—

How it feels to be hit by a truck.

 

 

To The Quick

I see the age in my hands

As truth impales my heart

Eviscerating my soul,

We honor those who depart 

Their fate beyond our control,

The balance has its demands

And isn’t concerned who feels whole,

The ache in my heart expands

As hope and I slowly part.

Dawning

It seemed that time stood still last night

Which really was a shock,

I smiled, until I saw the light:

The battery died in my clock.