Saturday, March 31, 2012

I cannot say if the waves have a reason
for swaying this way and that
or if my dreams mean anything more
than a series of days filled with mindless chitter chat

I have wasted much time on many a things;
many precious hours questioning;
wondering if I loved enough or ever loved at all;
dust to ashes (from them) many things fell;
I wanted to be perfect rather than understood or good
but change is always lurking if you're in the right mood

I have wasted much time on many a things
(so they say)
never too late to get it back on such a torpid Saturday.

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