Richard Boughton

LOST THOUGHT

I am the thought
That falls through the hole,
Listen,
I'll tell you where I go...
Not to oblivion,
For naught is null,
But I go
Where all lost notions go...
To lands of spreading
Shining sand
To the spaces
In between the grains
Through wormholes' spiraling
Cosmos roads
Where misplaced trillions
Meeting wait
And speak alone
Of being found

* * *

FATE

Why is it
that I want
to apologize
for fate--
or call it
whatever you will--
it is at least
reality--
Do you really think
I wanted it this way?
Is it so hard to imagine
that my legs remember
how things used to be?
Look, here I come again
lurching down the hall,
pulling myself
hand-over-hand
up the stairs--
Did I see you look away
just then?
Am I not the man
you meant me to be?
Well, that's all right,
that's okay--
the truth is
resentment starts with me

* * *

TIME

The driving wind,
The drenching rain,
Time
Has turned my legs to sand,
This castle
Will no longer stand,
But a whisper
Weaving through the reeds
Whispers
Time to plant this seed

Richard Boughton was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in July 2007. Since then he have been active in a number of online communities, posting reflections, ruminations, poems, etc. In the past he published a novel for middle age children (Simon and Schuster), as well as a number of short stories in various periodicals. He works as a medical transcriptionist.