She ask me how things were coming along,
Knowing the next question; stuck in my head like a chorus line from a song,
Day after day repeating the same old song and dance,
Year after year lulling me into a deep depressing trance,
I heard the crow faintly in the distance but it was late in the night,
I, in desperate need of rest, my body getting rigid and pail, a ghostly sight,
From one job requirement to the next task at hand,
The taste left in my mouth is mostly bitter and often bland,
And then another brief sound in the distance, the second time I heard the crow,
What is the meaning of this, causing the slightest thought to begin to grow,
The pattern is starting to piece itself together deep in the back of my mind,
Many puzzle pieces falling into place but still my eyes are closed, vastly blind,
It wasn’t until the third time I heard it, that faint crow making me squeamish,
Why did I wait all three times just to hear these piercing words…….
“It is Finished”.
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Very well done!
Regret and remorse are always so hard to live with. Very good poem Glenn. With love, Deb