Poem: Twelfth Time Around

Twelfth Time Around

So this time I will do things a little differently,
having learned what fails, a few times
just to make sure.

I have left part of me behind.
Ruins for others to ramble through
and judge and pronounce upon,

all exercises I no longer need.
My blood is well spent and today
serves as no more than decoration

for a B movie, certainly worth seeing
once, but not again,
free to make new mistakes.

It is a good thing to become somehow
both more and less tender. A thing
that only happens with a few batterings

and the good fortune to have been loved.

About this poem

I have had the good fortune to have been loved by so many wonderful people, family and friends and colleagues and a host of angels that would never claim the title, but deserve it none the less.


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