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On Up

By Wil C. Fry, March 17, 2003 (Monday)

Copyright © 2003 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


I’m sitting and pondering
I’m Wil — still wandering
The path, now not so faded
My heart, now not so jaded

Times have come and they’ve gone
Fading out is the sad, low song
And though times may be brighter,
The load doesn’t feel any lighter

Move on up, they smilingly said
Not knowing that my heart was dead

Years of staring over the Edge
Blinded me to the stairs
And years of holding my breath
Concealed unneeded despair

Throw it out, they encouraged me
Not knowing that I am not free

The fog cleared, wafting away
The boilerplate has cooled down
No more pressure-cooker
I left it in that last town

Look forward, they said, pointing
Not knowing life is disappointing

But I’ll try it anyway
Maybe not every day
Time to drink my cup
Time to move on up



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