The Fool – A Poem and aren’t we all at one time or another.
The Fool
I left my only picture
of you back on the moon.
I guess I’m screwed at ever
thinking I’ll be getting back
there anytime soon.
I could ask you for another,
but your narcoleptic and
you always fall asleep at
the exact moment my
lips form the question,
as if you’re a priest who
doesn’t wish to hear my
confession.
So sorry Mr. Man in Black
with that trace of white at
the neck that always looks just
a little too tight.
My truths are real.
My passions are true,
And my love, ah… well my love
turned me into fortune’s fool
for you.
By Philip Wardlow 2012
nice!
Thank you much!