resist and decease

in the slow progression
and small irritations of daily life
the musty smell
of lost opportunities permeate
my venial indulgences

dry as grass in a drought
precious fantasies
and raucous hopes
are shriveling

waiting for time to spin
the wheel of happenstance
waiting for something
extraordinary

a growing desire
to act on the urge

to fall into
an opening
a blooming
a canyon so vast
as to lose myself
for the rest of my days

© 2008 Melissa Songer