By John Thomas Tuft

Sifting through the whispers that I’ve piled in a corner

Treading softly so as not to disturb even a shadow

I come across several memories of those who have faded in

And then faded out of my life leaving behind joy and sorrow.

Driving across the prairie looking through the cracks in my heart

I think of those who have loved me then became ghosts

And the ones I walked away from so they could not see me run

The sands of time don’t give a damn and neither do they boast.

Floating down a river held up by all of my misgivings

The things I was so sure of, the people that I counted on

Wishing I was a cowboy riding off into the sunset

But my horse would remind me that I was the one who ran the con.

Seeking mighty purpose until I decide the precious is finding joy

Giving away all freedom for the sake of love

The sands of time mark the journey without pausing

And when I finish mark my passing by releasing a purple dove.