WHEN IT'S LATEA Poem by Phil Roberts
When it's late
Don't mess with sticky notions Don't fool with dangerous spaces There is no peace in such locations And time shall have all traces Of the needed restraint and sobriety To see us to our dotage But then How else are we to grow? And then again Who wants a dotage? Because when it's late Mocking caverns of reality yawn And toil tedium and trivia Are in the eyes of statues And these cry glass marble tears Because they cannot move They cannot leave the ground Their lowered heads like ageing flowers Sadly shrunken and dried With a gluttony of hours And all love of life long gone That's when it's late By Phil Roberts © 2015 Phil Roberts |
Stats
102 Views
Added on July 21, 2015 Last Updated on July 21, 2015 AuthorPhil Robertsmacclesfield, north-west, United KingdomAboutI'm from the north-west of England where the rain lives. I am retired and a grandfather to many. I've led an "interesting" life, i suppose you could say, with lots of laughter and a few tears, like mo.. more..Writing
|