These years will go by in a blur,
I’ll find myself in a lonely room somewhere,
Living in the past, ruing lost times with her.

Voices raised in song, the trilling laughter,
Frills and laces, ribbons in her hair,
These years will go by in a blur.

I’ll think of eyes full of mischief and wonder,
Monsters in the closets, the dolls in her care,
Living in the past, ruing lost times with her.

Her sweet kisses that made me feel better,
The adolescent fears, her thinking I didn’t care,
These years will go by in a blur.

Shadows will grow long across a barren shelter,
Its every corner yearning for her appearance rare,
Living in the past, ruing lost times with her.

Unless, I learn that its mind over matter,
Our gentle togetherness, a brief affair,
These years will go by in a blur,
Living in the past, ruing lost times with her

September 21, 2005
Categories: Poetry . . Author: Prags

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