I can’t beg off, it’s not my turn
There’s no one but for me to learn
Teaching our children matches burn
And know when lies should be discerned

She ran away taking my love
Leaving the door left with the dove
The dove flies and looks from above
Doing it only since she was shoved

Consequences given too late
Not understanding shoulder’s weight
The words meant nothing to forsake
Now I’m on a hill to undertake


© 2013 Michael Yost 06/24

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