The Man and I

I first posted this in 2006. I was asked to repost it.


The Man and I
I met a man the other day who asked me what I thought.
Of all the things that I had, of all the things I bought.
He wondered this because I had a look of such disgust.
At how my life was shaping up and turning into dust.
His puzzled look I'd seen before, almost every day,
Of how we think that happiness is a path on which we pay.
With this in mind I looked away, a sadness to conceal.
The concern was not what I had, but rather, how I feel.
A painful moment that had passed--not so long gone by--
A moment that repeats itself, and I can't answer why.
People enter, than they leave, often by my means,
Driving a wedge between new worlds that I have never seen.
To him I said, "My things you're free to have, I do not care.
Take it all away from me, my life is not in there.
Every day that ticks on by reminds me what I've lost.
The people that I've driven out I can't assign a cost.
"There is no doubt that love is bought in many different ways.
However, when it's purchased--it only lasts for days.
Finally, to this man, I said, "This much is true.
"You'll only ever know the cost when the fool with cash is you.


Thomas Daniel Herrington