Me

As a boy,
when besieged by sorrow
I lost myself in reveries of my soon-to-be youth
- with immaculate daybreaks
tender ray’s caress
dew speckled green leaves
chortles of vivid hued blossoms
by the melodious lissome rivulet
treading the copious meadows
a snug chalet
in still dell’s midst
I laze in her arms on hearth-rug
through the winter mist.

And when I got there
they were never there!

As a man,
through toil and woe
at times as mistletoe
a fragile glass fragment
beneath her high-heel shoe
I see my twilight times
- wafting in placid breeze
sunrise in Swallows’ twitters
butterflies splashed shrubbery
mellowed hazy church spire
as I walk by Cinchona array;
yapping merry old cronies
with fishing rods on waterside.
Hanging vistas of bygone miles
the mementoes on tenacious walls
and sunset on numinous isles
calling flocks of fluttering sails.
By the tepid ingle-nook
in sturdy stoic spirit
I sip vivacious wine
a lonely wight
through the winter rain.

But I dread getting there
for the fear of not finding them there.
Thenceforth, no times remain to dream
no sequel left to be seen

living relentless rude nightmare.