By FS Overly
The days have run, they are running
As the isles of youth slowly close, they’re closing
The last moments of something new are ending, They are dying
And with time passing, leaving such memories behind
Time is no longer an old friend, He is an enemy
The days are longer, but they pass faster
A new beginning looms ominously, She is looming
But it takes not where one wishes
But to new avenues and darker clusters
Where time is waiting and Fear is growing
Age is exposing such maladies of youth hidden
Where sanitarium lies just ahead, where it always hid
Youth was only too young to see
Now in a horizon finally met, uncertainty waits
Just ahead for the kids and the chicks
For the ones who wait until the end of such a horizon
Ever receding and left damned,
They are damned
To lonesome wanderings
Not those of beauty, not those of venture
No, not those of such dreams
But those of childlike running
They are fleeing
With youth and family not just a jaunt
But now an Odyssey, an Odyssey away
Maybe there will be more mobile blues again
Blues under the night lights
Blues awoken by white lights
Homeless blues upon the in between
Perhaps blues are living
Amidst the rest are dying.
F. S. Overly is an American poet, writer, and figment. Author of A Hill Without Trees.
