Every Day is not a lot; it’s never enough for me
Repetition is what comforts and soothes the turmoil within; a panacea that heals my injury and aides my daily fight
The French Doors never change; interestingly they open the same way Every Day but the difference is also there
Glancing my eyes are fixed on the spot, the place where you were; remembering You near the sawhorse with that smile and your hard calloused hands…You were So happy
“Ok Daniel, I’m off for my ride.” “Ok baby, I love you; have a good ride.” “I love You too.”
Riding so fast; thea flys you know?! May 30th is typically a “warmish” day but I rode so hard, so strong, so quickly in spite of the quickly warming dampness of the day
Sharp-shinned Hawks flew overhead and White Tail Deer ran along with me as my wheels spun whipping up some breeze; the day was made for me and everything felt more than right
Why was the silence even there upon my return? Those French Doors certainly appeared the same. Shy scared Cleo was out and about and not hiding; I just should have known but I did not
No banging! No cursing! No odor of hand rolled tobacco lingering in the air; You were the epitome of manliness when you’d puff out that smoke
The window told me to look; it encouraged me to glance. I already knew; I couldn’t look nor could I not
You were there, just there, in that lonely spot. thea flys you know but at that moment I could not; You were already a trillion miles away and beyond my flight
We tried together, You and I one more time; but I failed and I lost You even though by all appearances You remained in that spot
Changes are ample now; each day is so different except for what’s not. Every Day I will ride no matter Mother Nature’s mood or her might. Every Day I will ride because it’s the last time I heard You and saw You and Everything was Just Right
theaflys 