Prickly thorns and me .

Nobody gives you the heads up about life and how to truly embrace your youth and how precious time is . It all goes by so quick and that grudge you had with your brother and he with you back in 1989 created a void and no words spoken on either side . But come the spring of 2003 his ashes are caught by the wind he is free but the pain of regret incarcerates me . All I hear are the echoes of I am sorry but they fall on the freshly dug soil with a rose bush standing tall . It’s not you blue was your colour not red and I can’t see your face in a petal or remember your voice in thorns but I do know  now the pain of if only . I can’t blame the rhythm of life or the passage of years that came and went . I just kept waiting on an  olive branch but it never came and all I see  now are ashes burnt to a crisp , you immersed in prickly thorns and me .Time  In this case didn’t change that much it made the silence remain.