By in Personal

The evening of my life

Never woke when the sun was shining and the breeze was in the trees,

Suddenly my sun has set and the rays of the big red sun,

Turns the birds back home along with the bees,

So with whom are they going to share the fun?

Moot point, like the new moon sky...

That ignore the birds that fly.

Been here and then been there out where the grass grows,

Headed for every which way but home,

Now the darkness within me grows and it shows,

The day that passed was another way to roam.

Good point, like the river flowing by...

Rushing past the banks that they spy.

Is it time to go home yet?

Or shall I sit down and wait for a while?

Go home, go home.

Image Credit » by Angelo_Giordano

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MegL wrote on April 6, 2015, 5:14 PM

Interesting poem. Sounds like someone who has just woken up to time having passed by but still tempted not to actually live?

bestwriter wrote on April 6, 2015, 8:18 PM

Good poem. We cannot undo the past but surely make the best use of whatever is left.

scheng1 wrote on April 10, 2015, 8:46 AM

I would hate to stay outside when it is night, and time for bed.