Wandering

Bird call across the slowly moving canopy

Leaves flick and roll with the ants

A mosquito comes to check out the ware

And I'm wandering deep in my head.

All the good times that we enjoyed

All the grief and struggle endured

A steadily building pile of sticks

That formed our funeral pyre.

I do not hate, I don't think I can

Nor do I love as I once did

Bedraggled windswept beaten down

Burned and it is now over.

There's a sun rising high upon the clouds

They are glowing rose and bright and blue

A new dawn is blooming, just like the last

And it brings a life without you.