Kick Drum Heart


What I’ll never say

I’ll never say
“that could have been”

When dusk is close and
lights are dim

The air smells sweet on
summer nights, but
Memory tastes cold,
all right

I’ll never say
“that might have been”

When early morning
songs chime in

The air brings high bright
melody, but
Time is wasted if
you ask me

I’ll never say
“that should have been”

When late sun’s deja
vu sets in

Seared rays gleam
past actions glow, but
Sadness lasts if
you must know

I’ll never say
“I should have tried”

When I sit in on
life’s last ride, the

White of Death, or black
maybe seems pointless

since it’s
meant
to be