Incomplete Cycle

The moon sets,

The sun rises,

And I sit here on the dock,

Just swaying

To the waves,

Catching the breeze. 

The air is crisp,

The sky is red.

My eyes have not seen their lids

Since only God knows when.

There is no sleep

For the restless and the weary,

As we know not how,

Or where,

Or why such a concept must exist!

Whether rest or none,

Fame or foe,

Nothing ever gets done,

At least,

Never by the end of the day's show.

Sometimes it's a wonder

Of why I do bother

To stay where only the air stalemates?

As I sit here,

Listening to the waves crash upon the dock,

Eyes worn out,

Nose beginning to redden,

And the air seeping through my jacket,

I look at the beginning of the blue horizon,

Glance at my watch,

And restart

The incomplete cycle again.

Reviews

[Craig2591]

I really like the picture that this paints. And I can feel the cold air and hear the waves. This poem is a feast for the senses.

[Annie Ale]

Thank you! I was trying for that!