By Rob S. Rice
Of late, I've been alone at length,
Long lonely nights negate my strength,
And sour, at times, my normal mood.
One withers in strict solitude.
I think too often of my past,
The dreams I've watched ill fortune blast,
Sweet swift soft songs that fled from me,
And, laughing, left me, silently.
The images I once held dear,
Draw off and fade, none linger near,
And yet I hear their phantom call,
And wonder if I dream, at all.
Some things remain, my smile, still,
My lust to laugh, at times, my will.
And if, at times, some friendship ends,
I am blessed yet with faithful friends.
And, still, the urge remains in me,
To craft some joke, or poetry,
To place in print scenes in my head,
Lest, with me gone, they too be dead.
And so I reckon up the day,
Left lonely, steeped in some dismay.
Some wisdom gained, as months may mount,
The whole all left in my account.