Clyde Ride

Drunken stupor in times bluer than a starless night sky

Sunken deep time becomes a blur and begs the question, I

No, that’s a lie

As I wonder why

I’m feeling bad about the way that I’m living

Too young to not rest in peace 

Too old to not have found it yet 

Too fast to stop so I cannot cease

Chasing dreams on which I bet

The past with you that had the keys

Stolen, driven golden, I see the sunset

But that was then

And in the end 

You’re too far in the rearview to look back now

© The Sad Owl

Silver Soul

Gently running my hand across old printed photographs

Old skin turned to dust reached out to me

Hands of the clock trying to lay their fingertips against mine

And guide me through their lives

Smiles as the then young adults watched children try to eat pie with no hands

Pretending to be hippies, women in their youth so slender, skin ringing clear laughter

And all the love and smiles that became deep wrinkles

Engravings of a silvered soul

©️ The Sad Owl