The Night of Reckoning

Wow, what a night — the terrors bit and burned,
Dark demons chased me through my weary dreams.
For forty years the wheel of trade has turned,
Now rusting still, its echo fading seams.

A choice awaits — the bargain poor yet fair,
Or drag through courts that bleed both soul and name;
I stand before the end with heavy air,
My ledger closed, though none will bear the blame.

My daughter called, her voice a gentle thread,
“Just breathe,” she said, “and face the next day’s light.”
Her words stitched calm through chaos in my head,
The storm gave way, and morning felt more right.

At dawn we drove — her laughter filled the car,
Then breakfast warmth, though sleep still pressed my eyes.
The lawyer’s hour came, its weight bizarre,
Yet peace arrived in grandchild’s small surprise.

That moment — pure — the years fell back in streams,
As if time’s hand reversed its grinding gears.
By night, with beer and friends, I sipped at dreams,
And found some ease, some balm to quiet fears.

Now medicated calm replaces fight,
This wave of dread and joy has passed its crest.
I close the day — and thank the gentle night —
That grants a worn-out soul a little rest.