adventures in dysthymia

Thursday, September 09, 2010

HERE

Your pale wondering eyes
see only yesterday.
while I have lived in tomorrow
too long. Each day hangs
about your shoulders, shrouds you,
shrouds me so I lose
the way of every dream
I've walked. The paths remain;
I shall find them again,
later. I shall find them
there, hidden perhaps,
overgrown with time,
and take up the journey.
Now, I remain.
Now, I am here.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

A poem (well, duh) -- haven't turned out many lately. This references my current life as a caregiver; as all things do, this too will pass.

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