Friday, January 01, 2010
Requiem
Thirty-one years, ten and a half months.
More than half a lifetime.
You cannot share that much with anyone
without regrets
... things left unsaid, left undone ...
... better having not been done.
But now the air is thin.
The sun is wan.
The chill cuts closer to the bone.
Time, still rushing
... faster, faster ...
mocks us
by pretending now to slow.
Labels: Poems
