Limbo

And here I sit,
half what I once was,
broken and mangled by the storm.

And here I see,
with one eye I gaze into the past,
longing and hoping time will turn so I
can play the fiddle again.

And here I hope,
hope for my voice to resume,
for someone to hit the mute button
once again, so I may just sing
my old and desolate soul to life.

And here I rest,
the person I was, is long gone,
and the person I am is not fit
to play a fiddle.

So here I roam,
always moving forward,
one foot at a time, wandering
into tomorrow as I look at the past.