Jack and Jill

Before the cock crowed twice

I denied myself thrice,

Rolling the black and white dice

With a heavy hand

And a heavy heart.

To say I lost face

On that gamble, that fixed race

Would be a redeeming grace.

O, but I’ve lost every trace

Of every step along the way

And all the stories

that people will ever say

About my fleeting life.

Sweet old ladies will go to hell

And best friends who I knew oh so well

But never picked up the courage to tell.

Too busy looking at my reflection

At the bottom of some well

Then to carry up the bucket by its bell.

I was Jack to your Jill

And that very small hill

Looked too big, but still

I found the thrill

In trying anyway.

Now I'm old and gray

and lost along my

crooked little ways

and I stoop down to gaze

at a puddle in a field,

and the water asked me

if it was all too real?

But my black heart

could no longer feel

the holy seal

left by some nice ghost

who said he loved me the most

only in this shall I ever boast

that a Dad, a Kid, and

some Holy Ghost

loved me ever the most.

And that is enough.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this poem. It's not about girls or a girl. It's about loving people and telling them what they need to hear and the regret you have when you don't, though in the end things will work themselves out. the end.

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