Swing and a...miss.

Monolith Epic Extraordinaire

Broken dreams, busted parts
And the morning rain remind me of a past storm,
which I either ignored in a dream
or childishly protested against with gasping scream.
I can fix almost anything but suspended disbelief.

There is always a chance
In another life or at monumental end of a closure's looping signature,
where I neither ferry lost thoughts across emotional highways
nor begrudgingly accelerate throughout the remainder of my days.
I can forget almost anyone but you.

In time
And by recollection of quibbles, foibles, and fodder,
when another ladder rung pops like a button poorly sewn
or mistakenly altered by a seemingly harmful force unknown.
I can fly almost anywhere but back to you.