Email Poem

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Poem


My tendency to slip into the dark-
a matter you have now begun to press.  
In realms of time and pain, I ache no less;  
you undervalue still, its lasting mark.  
So see me stand before you, bare and stark;  
I pray you’re not dismayed when I confess  
the ticking clock alone cannot repress-
this sorrow hovers on a timeless arc.

I do not wish to burden or deceive;  
if I could craft a spell, I’d cast it quick.  
I’d wield a wand if it might do the trick,  
but endless is this ache, I do believe.  
To waste a wish on turning time is tragic,  
for I have yet to come across this magic.

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