Tuesday, 4 June 2013

Days

Where are the days going?
Slipping away like a thought
Fog on a hasty horse has got
The answer, but can’t be caught

A dawdler when we avoid
A spirit when we desire
The mire of glum fire
Suddenly sweet enough to admire

Special days are remembered
Blue days aren't forgotten
Memory relishes even in the rotten
Light laughs, tough tears are begotten

Dear days before you go
Three things I want you to know
My mind will recall and glow
I’ll be happy and low and happy and slow

No comments:

Post a Comment

The Truth

Dragging oneself ahead, only because dragging backwards would be difficult and funny, doesn’t complete you. Following an invisible laz...