Marcy Saylor Poems

I watch as the trees go by, the sun slowly setting
The window down and the wind in my face
As reality rushes back to me, I start to taste it.
The taste of regret.
...

You see me, when you don't want to.
You hear me, when you want quiet.
You feel me, when you want to be dry.
I cause the earth to swell, when you want it to be solid.
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Sickness, looming death, defeat.
Playing and laughing, shoving and smacking.
Driving and hanging around, not a care in the world.
Moved away, what's next? Who is to say.
...