Can it be,
That it’s not been so long since I’ve been set free?
Feels like such a short reprieve,
I yearn for more,
More days I need,
For before I knew not more than run,
Escape,
Avoid,
And sink then sunk,
Those days of old where old ways always won,
But nowadays I try to find,
Much better ways,
To have fun,
Unwinding without lies and such,
Grasping gently,
Gentle touch,
Easy going,
That’s enough,
This is that dream once out of touch,
This is the life I want,
No rush.
A poem on my 120th day of sobriety. Be well.
