It’s a dreary day,
a steady cold drizzle falls.
A chill in the air, for sure
winter’s early call.
All alone again, as darkness sets in.
It’s only four o’clock, but it feels
like seven. No place to go, nothing
to do, maybe read a poem or two,
then I guess to bed about eleven.
There I go again, talking to the
slow creeping shadows on the wall.
I wish they could talk back, for the
worst is the silence. It’s so loud
it hurts my ears when it starts to call.
Maybe I’m just feeling sorry for myself,
unwanted tears, brought on by my aging years.
What more can I expect, life slows and
the shine of it all no longer glows.
All the questions have been asked and
the answers are always the same.
So I guess life is just a time
related game.
For everyone I’ve ever known,
I’ve forgotten their names.
At eighty seven, it’s about
time I look to heaven.
Struggle, strife, sickness then death.
I’m so tried, O’ Lord how much longer
do I have to wait to take my last breath?
With my life behind me,
God forgive…
If I sound ungrateful
but…
is that all there is?
Jackie R. Kays
Copyright…2004
Reader please note: This is not a self portrait.
I’m not eighty seven ….Yet…smile.