Τετάρτη, 22 Σεπτεμβρίου 2010

Now that my days are almost done


Now that my days are almost done
The things I coveted when I was young 

Now as inaccessible as my youth 
Prevent my ageing gracefully
So many unfulfilled desires
Some I recall
Οthers nudge a memory or two 
The treehouse I never owned
The bike I never rode
And the love I could not hold
In school I'd feel sublime 
So sure I'd be a poet  
Or a scholar of some kind 
Always with my head in clouds 
And feet an inch or two above the ground
Whatever will become of her they’d say
And shake their heads in such dismay
Now I drag my feet
In worn-out slippers of defeat
I prowl the premises at night
 

Stumbling on the grieving ghosts 
Of things that never came to pass 
A crib death of a kind 
One hardly dares to speak about..



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