There Is No Place

Jump from the train
grabbing hold
of a high wire
Harry Houdini greatest
one man act…
Nothing swings
like the sound coming
from an old horn player –
sweet baby lullaby
the cradle will certainly fall!
When my heart burns
and the thrill
of flying above
the natural wisdom
of women better than I
perched above
common sense
I will let it go.
One finger at time…
falling to sand and stone
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
there is no place
to call home.
Clasping hands together
repetitive words wither
while hope lingers
that prayers
will be answered
knowing full well
you get what you give
and you can only play the cards
that are dealt…
You can’t cheat
the house no matter how
hard you try.
So with that and
a tender touch of sarcasm
I’ll blow the whistle
holding each note
like a new born child
and move on.
No looking back.
Regrets
are for those
with a conscious,
embedded
in guilt ridden
soul seeking
homeopathic remedies…
that only work for believers.

© 2016 TrilbyYates

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