Did the months really
fly south that swiftly?
Did our passion settle
into a slow smoulder for good?
And what is that blurry speck
floating in the waning distance,
where once our young eyes
held high in court?
Wake up, I say!
Turn back that calendar page!
Roll over that moist contentment
and let the sun claim back
its child from the damp.
Drag those once-dared dreams
out from under the dewy canopy,
breathe air into those sodden lungs!
Shake out your trembling legs,
stretch out your shrunken mind,
claw back that life you’ve wasted.
As surely as there is you,
there is a magnificent plan
for your remaining days.
Rise up!

This entry was posted in Agony and Ecstacy, Eternal Optismism, Life, Nature, Poems, Uncategorized, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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