Posted in Death

Stage Fright

There were no tears or smiles
just an untangling of limbs
and inconsequential chatter.
Memory begins to gather.

Strands of doubt and desire
knot to procrastination.
Time can wait no longer
a decision is required. Now.

Then, complications were absent
no cry of a newborn
or uncertainty of career
only certitude of self.

Passion’s slow fade
answers the door to second thoughts
and agrees
ecstasy cannot repeat.

For the back story click Backstage
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Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.