73 lines
1.5 KiB
Text
73 lines
1.5 KiB
Text
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WIP
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2020-12-09
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***
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Many a project
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has sat in disused corners of
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my laptop in neglect
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over these six past years.
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A spark of inspiration,
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a candle's fire,
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quickly muted once I yet again tire
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of coating these hands with clay.
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No oxygen, no respiration.
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Who has time to waste
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their life in work?
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I just want to play.
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It pains me to think
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that more than a decade ago,
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after had melted the snow,
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my family and I would regularly
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hop state lines
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to visit aging grat-grandmothers
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to make sure they were fine.
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But one by one they dropped like flies,
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and the farms were sold
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to repay debts passed down
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to us by old farts
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who spent themselves into a tizzy
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buying things to try to buy our hearts.
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I didn't need luxury. I needed love,
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and I sure wasn't going to receive
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any from a man whose face,
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whose voice,
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was always grumpy and mean.
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I remember that half-finished home,
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the exposed framing upstairs where
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Family Sarah and I would roam,
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trying not to tear our skin
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on pink insulation.
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Was it full of shards of glass,
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or was it not?
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We sure did debate about it a lot.
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A dear second-cousin
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(or something close)
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worked hard to finish
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her homework early
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so we would have time plenty
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to play.
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And now, on what
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was then an impossible day,
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I find myself reciprocating,
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working myself into a pale clam
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to complete my own exams
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so my brother and I
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have our own free time.
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Maybe it is not yet
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time for me to leave
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this nest and fly,
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but I can help him to achieve
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a little bit of freedom.
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I have to give it an honest try.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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