I Waste My Days
In the half-twilight of my empty year
Where I crouch, hemmed in
By an avalanche of days,
I hear the trees murmur
In some long, sad fatigue,
While birds land, hover…
And break their journeys.
My life has bunched its folds,
They gather at my feet,
As clouds, grey, scud across each enterprise;
Behind my eyes are glimpses of
Lost days, more sure and wise,
While love lies, mocking me,
And each year cries…
The clock ticks relentlessly,
The dead leaves fall,
My lost friends walk at my horizon,
The things I found familiar
Have ceased to draw my gaze…
I sleep too long and often, and
I waste my days…
poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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