Tricks of the Trade

Poetry

A great deal was invested
billowing out and away toward the clouds
with finesse. A skill
honed over dark afternoons
of timeless practice.

There was a place for everything, yet
It never quite fit, it
remained disjointed
and out of sorts.
Even so,
I knew the way it should go.

I left
I walked away
I walked up the hill
on tiny thin path
toward the horizon.

I looked back, I saw
you standing there
disappointed and alone.

Many things have spilled, been lost,
flowed away down cliffs, rocks
a jagged precipice.
We could have worked together
getting things done
one by one.

Regret is stiff in the mouth
like stale bread
rough sustenance you take
to turn your back on a team
that never wanted you.

Going it alone
is a fresh start, anyway
not without a bitter taste, true,
but new fruit will be sweeter.

The spirit does not look back, it turns
toward the light
of the future.