Fought My Way to the Top of the Rubbish Pile
By Richard Mabey Jr.
I fought my way to the top,
scratching and clawing,
never to stop,
still your shadow kept gnawing.
All the corporate lies and deceit,
and all the broken hearts,
and all those moments of defeat,
and all those fails and restarts.
For no matter how high I’d climb,
there was a bit of sadness,
subtle and sublime,
without your tenderness.
For no matter whom I dated,
even she be a beauty queen,
none ever rated,
your elegance, charm and self esteem.
I fought my way to the top of the rubbish pile,
scratched and clawed against all their lies,
but deep in my heart, all the while,
there were always tears held back in my eyes.
No other girl’s hand,
I ever held,
held such a strong strand,
of belief in me, deeply weld.
O’ to spin back the hands of that old clock,
what difference did it make,
when we argued, sitting on that old fishing dock,
looking out across the blue lake.
And when you wrote me to tell me,
that you were dying,
I inwardly screamed, it can’t be,
and spent that night alone and crying.
O’ a few hundred letters I wrote,
to try to bring you comforting words,
far from the old love note,
I’d send ya’ when we were young and carefree birds.
I tried my best to earnestly convey,
that there is a God who loved you so,
I really never knew what to say,
my heart was so heavy, down and low.
But I’d give everything I own,
to see you again for just five minutes,
the harvest of every seed sown,
in background of angels’ flutes.
I’d give up every old Superman and Batman
just to see you once again,
in our secret nook.
At times I feel your presence,
so ever sweet and dear,
your true essence,
of love that knows no fear.