carpe diem

I leave it to the sky...

    I leave it to the sky I might
          Sit down and pen the best
I’ve ever written:
    ‘Bout when I was right
              For once,
      Or smitten,
  Or heart-bitten hard,
        Or when I too-awkwardly
                Starred the dunce
      In my own quick-handed tragedy,
  Or was self-stupidly—
            Perhaps supernaturally—
Barred from a tawny redemption
          None of which would change
  Or cinder-chase away that
Is the fawny exemption,
        And, though spotted, ever-new;
    Not an o’er-the-shoulder
              Capitulation to grey,
  But strangest coloration—
              And a brave beautification—
        On what I’ve left to do.

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