Hind-Sight's Blind Poem by Patti Masterman

She and I, though more alike than not,
Agreed to go our separate ways;
While each alone, chewed the memory of bone,
And turning with our thoughts, that lathe.

We could not stay together in one room;
The air was not sufficient for the two,
And though was me moved out, I knew she was about-
But knowing nothing better, could I do.

Now I find, the other was the kind
That in secret, forced the chasm- wide.
My grief swells more- since time's a thief;
And hind-sight's blind- to closed minds.

March 27 2015