promises I thought I could keep
but fate had other turbulent plans
Over time, the paper has faded
like my memory of so many things
except your gentle smile in my dreams
Does anything work out how we plan?
You would laugh and simply say
as long as you're happy
what difference does it make?
I guess my downfall in life
is the need to understand
answers are hostile at times
disturbed foot prints
in desert blown sand
It is time to re-write an old, red letter
release the grip of your turquoise hands
realise we are not always what we plan
How else will life seem beautiful?
Perception must caress the positives
negatives soon to melt
in the palm of the hand
that destiny dealt
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