I've lived long enough to know it is futile
to talk or argue or commiserate or disdain anyone
each of us occupies a blighted spot
where our souls once thought a garden would grow
now the winter of our lives is upon us
and we rake the last leaves
and gather the last fallen twigs
and sink to freedom from our futility
Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
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