June 6, 2019

I can't help but wonder,

Could the wolves have done better?

Would the pack better provide

What I have seemed to lack?

From the outset my hands tremble

With the life I hold:

I'm too settled to raise trouble,

And too lost to raise content.

He looks for guidance.

Affirmation is sought.

My hands clench tightly.

I've got no reserve to raise.

His cards were my cards,

Stained and bent.

A merit raise is of note,

But the fall would be too great.

I don't bluff my play.

I don't play to the crowd.

If I could raise the dead.

They'd still be rot.

I'd need a crane to reach

The heights he needs to soar.

Instead I raise my glass

And pray tomorrow I will do more.