Feathered Wings

Days spent, medical world; I never felt the passion
Hands of the clock drag around, baggage tossed like coins
into the Fontana di Trevi – I still prefer gelato; anytime of day
But, life has its own plan, agenda
And I could just blame it on circumstance
birth place, date and time; full moon or not
Maybe it’s a New York thing or being middle class
in a Westchester town that never truly knew
all the potential it held within its gentrified streets
Surrounded by lakes and power boats; the dark side
Learned how to sail on one of those lakes
– and for the first time I knew what it felt like to breathe
And that I could never remain humble or satisfied
marrying the boy next door with a town job
Nothing wrong with getting your hands dirty
But, the dirt I wanted under my nails;
glowed like magic dust sprinkled in my hair
with a touch of bad-ass quirkinesses
Spent life punching my way out and taking every single hit
as just another diamond in my crown
Another feather in my wings
Admittedly, stepping up to the edge; looking out,
eyes closed and wondering if my days
here were worth the juxtaposed angst
and personal pride…
…and would I be remembered?

©2019 TrilbyYates