There Is No Place

Jump from the train
grabbing hold 
of a high wire 
Harry Houdini greatest
one man act...
Nothing swings 
like the sound coming
from an old horn player -
sweet baby lullaby
the cradle will certainly fall!
When my heart burns
and the thrill 
of flying above 
the natural wisdom
of women better than I 
perched above 
common sense 
I will let it go.
One finger at time...
falling to sand and stone
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
there is no place
to call home.
Clasping hands together
repetitive words wither 
while hope lingers
that prayers 
will be answered
knowing full well 
you get what you give 
and you can only play the cards 
that are dealt...
You can't cheat 
the house no matter how
hard you try.
So with that and 
a tender touch of sarcasm 
I'll blow the whistle
holding each note 
like a new born child
and move on.
No looking back.
Regrets 
are for those 
with a conscious,
embedded 
in guilt ridden 
soul seeking 
homeopathic remedies...
that only work for believers.


© 2014 TrilbyYates