REPETITION

Sometimes I think I’m trapped,

Living my life

Over again

In all its worst phases,

As if I longed

For yet more grief and strife

And craved

Crusty old fashions and crazes.

Perhaps it is old age,

Senility;

A depleted,

Poorly encrypted mind

That once bounced,

No, leapt with agility,

And tried and tried

To triumph from behind.

Maybe it is regret,

Guilt from neglect,

Flowers never bestowed,

Promises wrecked,

Happy houses now empty,

Derelict,

Blatant failure,

Foul disgrace,

Chopped and necked.

More than likely

It’s my discarded dreams,

Ghastly nightmares

That plague my pious nights,

And bid me swim again

In lukewarm streams

Of long ago

And far away love’s heights.