Swaying to and fro, dancing with the breeze,
The early embers fall crying from the trees.
Riding on the waves, waiting for the call,
The life I thought I saved hangs on the wall.
So many smiles and laughter: the language that we choose,
The circumstance of chance in a game I always lose.
There is no remedy, a one-stop forget-it-all,
And no time to soar only time to crawl.
Too petrified to try, and I miss my cue,
Pain pent up inside restricts my point of view.
Down this well- worn path, how did all of this begin?
The circumstance of chance beats in my heart again.
