by Glen Martin Fitch
I can't forgive myself
for feeling trapped.
Resentments grow.
This isn't what I planned.
My faith begins to fade.
I can't adapt.
I slither off
from where I used to stand.
My old convictions
simply do not fit.
It think it's time
for me to slink away.
Campaigns and hobbies, tasks
I have to quit,
abandon games and music
I don't play.
It's time to throw out
worn out clothes.
It's time to toss
old books and odds and ends.
To free myself
of tastes and creeds
all goes.
It's time to shuck off
relatives and friends.
It's not betrayal
or fear of what's ahead.
So I'm a snake.
Well, this one's got to shed.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011