The clock rolls on, it’s 3 a.m. Wondering What am I doing here Through flickering light And another cigarette Alone, again I search for words

Author River Dixon
The clock rolls on, it’s 3 a.m. Wondering What am I doing here Through flickering light And another cigarette Alone, again I search for words
Beyond This moment Or another Until gone The reasons No longer Matter This just Is Forgiving Is to Not forget What you Have given Me
As I lift the lid The Smell of Cedar Overtakes me After all these years The tiny blanket Still remains Stained with tears Swollen with
We agree Too often Clarity is lost Through shackles Of self imposed Dissonance At arms length We keep distance Between the You and I At
My little girl pleaded for me not to go. That was the hardest moment of my life, looking down at those big blue teary eyes,
Drums pound Cries rain down From the heavens The spirits danced And sang As a mother stood Over the body Of her dead son Two