The fort

Just another lost love writing. As my depression worsens my work has decayed, which is where this came from. This is also a true story.

A restored British army fort 

I sit and drink my coffee 

Trying to squander the time 

You asked me to come over 

And fell asleep while I was on my way

So I could not stay 

Here I am for an hour 

Sitting against the wooden tower 

That is the blockhouse

The feeling in my hands has faded 

Like my anger 

Of you falling asleep 

Life is hard 

We are all tired 

Sleep my darling 

I won't call 

The temperature dips to single digits 

With numb fingers I fight 

With my phone 

Gliding of pictures of the well I built at this fort 

A job well worth 

The hours of effort 

The time is up 

Time to pick up 

And head home 

Later you awaken 

Quite shaken 

That I was left out in the cold

The warmth of your love revives me

You are forgiven 

Though you are gone now 

I wish somehow 

We could do it all over again