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Stems

Empty hours accumalate -
And take over;
Nothing ventured and definately-
Nothing gained...
Critical minute blown away in --
Idle contemplation...
While 'Rules Of Thumb' are busy twiddling;
While the clocks tic has now regained its tock...
And happier days are -
Even further away;
At one time-our life-
Was like a Merry-Go-Round...
Circlling-the proverbial 'Brass Ring';
Brazen to haughty...
Where nothing -
Or no one could-
Disturb our daily lives-
Which were-
Lived just under the-
Guise of permissable;
But today, ah, yes today...
We find ourselves vegetating--
In a half dead 'Garden'--
Of lost hopes...
Lost dreams...
With time moving on ahead--
But where we are going nowhere...
Stagnate in our acres of regret...
Dying a little breath at a time;
Flushed out...
Faint and hopeless...
Now just withering---
Fruitless stems;

For: The Attic Of My Heart
August,2010

poem by Theodora Onken
Added by Poetry Lover
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