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Poem

They watch me as I spend my time
As if they know the score
Sometimes they laugh
Oft times they cry
Out there in nevermore
And as I use their ways of life
In daily situations
They play what if in shadowed halls
Or minor conflagrations
It’s harder now to make a friend
Than e’er it was before
So many sudden partings end
The close felt feelings more
And all those generations strove
To spend their ways in pleasure
How many counted all their days
As simply buried treasure
What was it for that all before
Was there a hidden meaning
The chorus from the ghosts of friends
Is pulsing me to leaning
Into steady winds of time
To tack and come about
And shout
Come taste in haste the waste
Enough of all your keening

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