To a Lost City.

I am myself,
And you are the past
Yet, there are nights when I cry in a rain-filled mudhole,
Wildly calling out,
For the two we were –
Four with the dogs –
For they don’t make ’em better than us four,
I’ll tell you that

If only you or I could have accepted our small, struggling life –
A life of nothing promised –
How hard that is,
It decided our seemingly little fates

As for me, I got the dream writing life, in the mountains
It fell in my lap –
And you were gone
The four, now one

But I can’t shake it,
The lifetime we lived,
It was mine, it was real
And I’ll always be wildly missing it,
Carrying it with me

Our map back to the great lost city,
Of Lawrence and Sarah

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