Bags under your eyes–
all packed up ready to depart.
A solemn tryst ‘tween life and death,
here and now at the cockcrow of
A wayfarer drawn to the purr of eternity,
alone on a path to stilly shores.
How you know where to go I wonder!
For in life’s blind spot I sojourn.
A weft in the tapestry of this sadness,
with nothing but tears to offer.
Staring out your weeping window,
hoping the lights illume and birds bemoan.
And from the hum of traffic beyond,
may nostalgia betide you.
Your days are nearly spent,
your entire life neatly folded into a frown.
And time is a falsehood I can’t loan,
a clock my grief unable to unwind.
Time is an addiction you have finally conquered.
A zephyr to waft your soul home
after a hard day of living.
Godfrey Holy is a published author of several anthologies (In the Crosshairs, A promise of Doves among others). He has been a guest author in several other books. He resides close to Boston with his wife and three kids.