My admission of failure
And my subsequent retreat
Marks my new beginning
And not my loss
In love and war
No battles are won
Casualties are often many
And at some point
It’s best to admit
My friend or foe
We have done enough
Damage to each other
It’s time to heal
One of the
Saddest sounds is
The scraping of
Utensils at the
Bottom of the
Pot or bowl
Because you know
Right then that
Whatever delectable feast
That you enjoyed
Is now nothing
More than memory
Remember you might
Recall you may
But no matter
How you try
You know that
No two pots
Of anything are
Ever really alike
So enjoy what
You can and
When you can
Until that is
There’s no more
Sometimes you just
Have to accept
That the cards
Aren’t being dealt
In your favor
Or that you’ve
Eaten too much
Of too many
Things or even
That the evening’s
Date isn’t going
As well as
Planned that at
Some time you
Cash out push
Away or pay
The tab with
At least your
Minimum self respect
Still in tact
I had hoped
That things were
Meant to be
I cannot lie
When I’d thought
That we’d lived
In sunny paradise
But it was
Just Indian summer
As seasons change
And things that
Were hopeful maybes
Turn to ice
On ponds and
Clink in glass
Chilling now like
That long summer
Two seasons ago
A word about
Forgiving and forgetting
The offer of
Forgiveness provides hope
Hope that things
Will be better
But some things
Are simply unforgivable
Those selfish believe
That forgiveness and
Hope are weaknesses
To those and
Them the only
Thing to do
Is to forget
Forget those and
Also forget them
Because they’ve already
Forgotten about you
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 