I wonder

‘tis just the hopes of long ago
that lie like sand beneath my feet
and I wonder why it takes so long
for wind to lift them up
and fling them out and round about
like discarded winter leaves.

It’s like they’re glued in place
with determined stubbornness
that refuses to release
what’s not meant to be.

And ‘tis a weight that breaks the heart
again, again, again,
and I wonder why it takes so long
for understanding to appear
and remove useless attachments.

It’s like the mind in mourning stills
and loses its ability
to sign up for the programme
that generates new hopes.

And it’s quite alright, you know,
because where on earth’s the dotted line
the bears our willingness
to forego the past and start again.

But there’s a programme, yes, there is
and indeed a dotted line
and all we have to do
is find out where they are!