The night is full of regrets
That sleep makes us forget
The day comes back with hope
Leaves us little time to mope
The house is often like a child
Tending towards the wild
Things not put in their place
Can find ways to hide
As long as the hands are busy
The mind takes it easy
The feet clock miles without
Having hardly stepped out
The chores keep at us
Like waves that never rest
Maybe more is in store
That I not know of as yet
The sun sets with a sigh
That quietens the sky
Till the hunter turns in
The lights will be burning
To be alone with the past
Is to mourn the lost
Whom sleep brings to life
In dreams where lines are crossed.
No comments:
Post a Comment