No more encouragement
No more words of wisdom

No more pushes to move on
No more becoming
No more letting go

No more time to heal
No more time to rest
No more time to be
My best

Let me mourn
Let me cry
Let me wail
My hand of spades

Let me exchange their incongruence
For a hand of diamonds or better yet a
Hand of hearts

To find a glimmer clearly
Clothed in the shape of a home

May I wear the earth’s prosperity
Without pride
Upon the bosom of my soul

May the thorns of my life
Forever live in nostalgic majesty
To lead the Rose to its final rest
Beneath the Weeping Willow