poetry

Be troo / Be too / Be yoo

 

I was a sad little man in ambition and

fact.

I struggled to express myself in physical

form.

I did have goals and aims –

objectives quite clear.

But my mode of operation appeared

lackadaisically un

dear.  As if I didn’t care or know

what I was doing: yet I did, I promise

you.

My responsibility to offspring and

spouse weighed heavily on

my being.

My sense of in-

te-

gritty led me to struggle against

coffee-

plagued meet-ups which

meant me to abandon

them to their own devices and

gadgets and ameliorations of

superficial society.

But I couldn’t see this happen: I loved

them too much.

My prime directive, as if programmed

by corps, was to do what I could do

to lead them to the independence I knew

they could battle with and take

onboard ship-

wise as if embarking on high-

sea-

d ingenuity to different country and

continent.

And all I’ve ever desired for them

all is the independence I desired

for myself.

Does that make me a selfish being?

Does that make me self-

interested and un-

kindly in my winding road?

Or does it, maybe, allow me now

to see that winding road

goes else-

where the sacrifice no longer needs

making?

 

Yes, I want my clever duplicities but

still do wish to be troo.

I want my independence but

not from yoo.

And I want to be me in everything

I might, but never with yoo

out of my sight.

 

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