Poetry of place

Sometimes I want to go back in time, find simplicity

But like fantasies in a fire

That is yet to come

So I succumb to what is

Whilst wondering what else I could have done

There is no mystery

In what she said

But why it comes back

Maybe I don’t want to know

Lazy days have this impression

Dress my thoughts in olden clothes

Open the door for confessions

Only one way this can lead

And when that happens

All else becomes less important

And then becomes timeless

The failings far forgot

In the shifting patterns

We would make, have truth be

Guess there is no more to say

The moorings loosed on a turbulent sea

Our seeds all drowned in history

The question then has no meaning

For the answer is alone

Regardless, into there I climb

This one more time