The Longest Days

.Only yesterday, but in truth most days passed, I was given 

to ponder on what could be the reasoning behind some days,

at least to me, appearing more protracted than others.

After a great deal of thought and a great deal of pacing,

I can only come to this conclusion, as any other would be awry.

I begin.

The longest days are not those of ceaseless rain

that batters the roses into submission and lays low the marigolds

Nor are they the days when the cold wind blows from the east,

chilling my bones as if I lie in the cold earth, in a forgotten

churchyard, overgrown, unvisited, where not even memories are remembered.

They are not the times when music fails to soothe, the sweetest voice or the darkest chord hold no pleasure for me

and silence fails to fill my heart with even the most subtle joy.

No, it is non of these, for they cannot begin to liken themselves

to those empty moments when time passes like an overburdened mare.

No, in conclusion, and the only answer I will allow myself to give is that

the longest day of any day is

when........

you are........

not there.