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Rated: E · Poetry · Drama · #1099620
Written on the spur of the moment, for the journal of a gaming character.
Not My Hour

So many homes and yet not one,
No place to which she may come,
Who knows when her journey will be done,
Who knows when she will make it home.

A ship, a chariot through the stars,
A trap, perchance, yet an escape.
And here stand I, a 'verse apart,
Halter exchanged for cape.

There she could go, but there she won't.
Here I could not bring her.
Here I have everything that I want,
And yet there is no redeemer.

A promise is made, a love is owed,
And things are beyond my power.
There I cannot help to bear the load,
For it seems this is not my hour.
© Copyright 2006 ChasingCrickets (dunfalach at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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