Age and failings
Dreams and trust
Unpolished railings
Wooden steps
Stairs walking up
To a single room
On an otherwise empty floor
An old man sat in an old hotel
It smelled of the must
It never was popular
The guestbook covered with dust
I grieve for what I was
And then for what I became
I sorrow for the past
The promise it had but turned to shame
I am sorry for hard promises
That were made and painfully kept
I am sorry for beliefs
That I have where the joy has left
Because grudges are promises
Because vows are hopes
Because dreams are not real
And to have and hold
Is not the same
As to have and want
Or to love
