The Eye Of The Needle

He’s gone now, the old me,

And not with some big great goodbye

But with a whimper,

Somewhere out there in the wilderness.

To write seemed such an innocent idea

To discard the old and move on smiling with a dream

But there was a cost to it all,

And it cost everything,

And it took everything,

And the only parts of me that I can salvage from my yesterdays

Are those things which will fit through the eye of a needle.

bobby stevenson 2013