The Last Walk of a Defeated Man

Further on up the road is a place where I will lay my weary head.

The road is short now; I can see a shattered town.

Behind me I have left a long trail,

Of a garden life that’s become overgrown.

Searching for a lap to call my own,

A stroke of hair, I look up and the struggle is nearly over

A few more miles, nearly there,

And at my side turns tumble weed, and a wicker basket

Weaved from lies; before me a pillow wrapped in a black case,

Hands of comfort in a black lace tumble down town

And all my thoughts are in death….a last breath, a final

Prayer an, apology;

Fate please marry me I say on one knee,

For I am sorry, sorry, so sorry,

For messing things up.