Upon the Occasion of Rebirth

When I am down,

My thoughts are a ball of tar,

Dark, sticky and difficult,

The tar rolls, and gathers stones,

And the thoughts get darker, and the simplest things become more difficult.

In a gradual bloom, I have reawakened,

I no longer live in the dark quiet terror.

The exhaustion of the prison of my mind.

Tonight I celebrate with quiet abandon.

The night is turning cooler, and I must prepare.

After oh so many months, you are coming home.

And I want everything to be perfect.

I want just that quiet kiss goodnight, and to feel you beside me.

I know for you, passage into fall is a death knell, grieving the death of summer.

But to me, you are coming home.

After being gone for so very long, you are coming home.

Writer trapped in the daily grind of an IT Pro, parent to two boys. www.bydavepark.com & Buy me a coffee: ko-fi.com/davepark

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