Promises

Promises, scattered like late summer nights Fly away at the slightest wind bringing The notes of tomorrows frost upon my heels Another year edges to a close The words more difficult to connect Transitions that pull the cover of nights blanket Upon the world, and ones dreams. The paths traveled with trepidation Uncertainty has it's advantage on your future being. You've never defined yourself, but the stone that bears your known existence has no answer. Tears have never left the faces of long ago springs We stumbled into what is now but too many years lost as the ink of tequila soaked poems wither to causes vaguely defined. Maybe our peace has been met, or maybe just yours as future generations can only see the names etched for remembrance, But to what end I wonder. I only can think that one's hell can always become someone else's heaven.