It is sad how unequal we prove in our struggle with time despite the best
intentions.
IDLERS
We spent the time
On idle talk
Hardly aware
Of walls of mist
Between us rising
Year by year
A hollow yearning
Took hold of me
You peered through
Seeing nothing
My friend, fret not
It wasn’t meant
Some might say
Not torn asunder
Only drifting
Drifting away
No comments:
Post a Comment