I left them quite some time ago

To chase my leaf in the river's flow.

They stayed behind with what they knew

Bowing and swaying, as winds thrashed and blew.

 

Feeling safe, they would not travel far

Content their lot was whom they are.

But what they built, dreams forced askew

Soon clouds condensed, and pressures grew.

 

The tempest roared but then passed with haste,

All in its path now laid to waste.

The speed things dry seems quite obtuse

Cracks widening where the joists are loose. 

 

Having scraped the rough, I carry on.

Movement helps although they're gone.

With the losses counted, I take up my trowel

And get to sanding and mending now.

 

Filling these crags, I feel the wear

Of empty blessings. Friends thoughts and prayers.

It seems little more than niceties 

As I patch the cracks, they watch on with glee.

 

I still sense the old man cast his spell

"Get out there, and give 'em hell".

Drying plaster it cakes my skin

For now, I'll stick to my work within.