Dec 31, 2011
The Final Frame
Yes, it is the typical tirade
The trouble letting go
No more Melody, or dreams of D
No more Home outside of me
While I cherished what we tried to make
I never got the flow
Ah, heck, I wish I could just turn my back
And leave it all behind
The bad, the good, the dearth of time
The things I couldn’t find
No more masquerades, no fait accompli
No closets with no room for me
The irony in all of this:
While having what is most alike
Myself I could but miss