My young tired eyes
Have seen the light,
Both of the days
And of the nights.
They now gaze
With empty longing,
For simple times
Of calmer thronging.
A lively pace of
Life’s tranquil days,
Not congested or crazed,
But elegant in pace.
To calm it down to a drudge now,
And enjoy the somber light all around.
An amorphous world within my sight,
A tepid rain
At dazzling heights.
I want to go play golf and I want to take a swim,
And I want to cook all-out after I soundly sleep in.
I want to drive around on a scenic static weekend,
Gaze all over up and down at the secular scenery,
Hop out the car at a park of nature’s maker’s mark
And go to singing shouting loving all the leaves and trees.
As I run all about around now in joyful merriment
I snatch your hand and I don’t let go of it,
Until you look me back, tell me that you’ll stay in this,
For this moment is all we have now to try not to miss.
It doesn’t feel like a proper day,
Not at all in the proper way.
This one
Has been done
Without any sun,
Without any joy;
This day is so coy.
How I await
With all but hate,
An ardent time
To truly call mine
Through any ole rhyme,
So that it may feel like a proper day,
Though perhaps not in the “proper” way.
