I am the carpenter
of my own discontent
the memories-
you strewn across my bed
awaiting some type of deliverance
only,I was not profound enough
to endure the endless hardships
of trying to build something
out of materials too raw
our flesh and bones
colliding in some attempt
to be beautiful
collapsing in a tired
heap of waste
and swept away forever

A good read, Sherry, this is my favorite of this latest group of postings.

Les

Thanks, Les. Glad you enjoyed it.