and it’s thursday
already
some day
there won’t be
another thursday
or friday
or monday either
until then
I’ll make what I do
of the days and days
those I have left
and those I don’t
(D. James)
and it’s thursday
already
some day
there won’t be
another thursday
or friday
or monday either
until then
I’ll make what I do
of the days and days
those I have left
and those I don’t
(D. James)
where does it
go
the time
seems like it
used to crawl
now I lose
track
of the days
and memories
are like stories
someone once told
I’m not even
certain
I’ve not written
this poem
before
(D James)
shorter the days
become
longer my heart
yearns for sunlight
and warmth
can we have life
without loss
and struggle
or is this all
just a matter
of how it’s seen
(D. James)
counting the days
until
we are together
this
the last time
we will be separated
seems longer
than all the others
how can twenty years
apart
seem shorter
than
the next four days?
(D. James)
how it is
that time
moves
at different speeds
the hours apart
seem as days
days as weeks
then
suddenly
you
in my arms
and the days
seem as hours
hours as minutes
then I am gone
lost in a calendar
of waiting
until
I see you again
(D. James)