What I Have Left Poem by David Blake

Depending on the breeze, my thoughts
are carried across plains of grass that
will never be seen. Long after the night
has come I remain, trying to remember
the way the morning might have come.
Covered by a symphony of sin and
shame, shrouded in sadness and
sorrow, I wonder why. Laughing like a
fool the bitter taste of yesterday remains,
if only to haunt my every desire. Yet I
can’t complain because I still remain
among those who so often cry.