Discussion
You lay in bed hearing the lost rain upon the tin roof, left idle and betrayed by the God of your childhood, who persisted past your prehension while the candent of the streetlamp begged you to preserve your soul from doubt. Sleep finally passes over and darkness defies your attention. Your eyes blackened and devoid of soul. Tending to a horse that only Jesus can ride. Ready to face another false day of pain and a mask to obscure the ripe scallywag that is your inner spirit. You awake from a troubled night of thin dreams. The sun, hidden from your preview and when it materializes, you are startled and aghast. Like holding a foreign coin in your hand. You know it has value, just not in the place you are standing. So back in your pocket it goes, lost amongst the other coins and charms of your past. John M. Valdez www.facebook.com/poetryofjohnmvaldez
