But do I meander?
Did I have to say
Something to someone
Somewhere in time,
Do I run away?
I had made it habit
To lull myself with tales
Of glory, that will never be,
Now time is running out.
It will soon be dawn,
The morning wind
Will remind me
Of debts I will not repay,
Shorelines I should have touched
Sails tucked in,
Like a well behaved boat,
Groomed in poetic forms.
I need not have smoked,
Or heard the sounds
Of melting ice
In an empty glass.
Or held hands in the park,
Smelt the ocean,
Wept with War and Peace.
Now I blame the rules
For not keeping track,
I blame the froth
For the foam in my head,
And crumbling plaster
On bathroom walls.
The ants taught me
To march in single file,
But I never learnt.
