Intense thoughts, like active beings, come and go. Haunt us then flee, leaving ajar the door

Don’t wait for 63

Picture c/o Petapixels.com

Such dire grief at 63
To discover your life givn’
away, with the wind
to thoughts of “they want”
‘stead of losing thine-self
to thine dreams, thy wants

See they know not
what ’tis they want
They follow the tide
and cast their nets
To dreams and fates
of blind mice

Yet you cast yours too
and sail’d same tides
Conformed same nets
and sold thine dreams
Now discover’d ’tis late
to live like eighteen

© Bonyo Buogha 2015

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