Fading Glory
In the spring I was a hungry scholar,
caged ambition chained to life's cold machines,
striving to grow more vigorous, taller,
prepared to succeed by most any means.
On the cusp of summer, I make amends,
forgiving myself for lapses and loss,
pretending the actions my being spends,
are worth something more than transient dross.
I cannot fool you if I can't convince,
myself that fair destiny holds her hand,
aloof, that somehow this game will make sense,
that I can someday take pride in my stand.
O dazzling spring, I could be anything!
O summer, how humble the anthem I sing.
14 August 2016
Copyright © J. I. Thomas F. | Year Posted 2016
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