DEAR ZANE

How much have you suffered there; how much pain?
To the point where you have run away from Maine—
Your tears spilled as you caught the midday train;
I guess it is too late for you to go back to your lane.

Where will you flee to: is it the history-rich Spain?
Or will you go to escape every drop of life’s cold rain?
Reality is, trouble will always fall on your windowpane—
I just do not understand; what are you trying to gain?

How long till you realize that your efforts are all in vain?
You cannot run from responsibility; there is a chain
Around your neck; break free! You do not need a cane;
I think you just need someone to say you are still sane.

Where you are heading, I hope it is not somewhere plain
If to Europe you flee, perhaps you can meet up with Jane?
She is a friend of mine who can help remove that stain…
If not, do yourself a big favour and stay away from Dane.

There is a lovely farm near Paris with a weather vane—
Philippe owns that place; what’s it called? White Mane.
Just tell him that I sent you; he will help empty the drain…
I know he will be able to mend that injury to your brain.

You’re not hopeless; you are believing that bully, Blaine.
Please heal soon and come back with not even a sprain;
If not, I pray that you find what you are looking for, Zane.
Hugs to you, mate. Sincerely, your good friend, Shane

*****

I wrote this poem last night in about an hour. Inspired by seeing a post on a website about someone running away from life just to indulge in his own fantasies. Every name included in this poem is just pure coincidence and are not named after any people.