She said she would make music with me
but I didn’t know how to sing
and couldn’t play a thing
could simply make literate lyrics
so she found another
who was far easier to play with.

This is often the way
with easy opportunities:
they flit away
like butterflies at the bottom of a hill
that you thought for a second
could succumb to your will
and be captured
and someday be put in a jar
but you realize you’d never been able
to run quite that far
or so fast to outlast
all the dark in your skull
stating completely you have no control
over what you might want
versus what you might have.
As you race in your chase
with the wings
– soon your calves
will collapse into spasms
and you’ll fall in the dale

and the girl who wanted to make music
will wail with another.
He’ll smother with all that you dreamed
while the wishes you stitched
prove to be unsown seams.

This is what happens
to opportunity
assuming you are every bit like me.