Frantic on the surging tide
reeling in lost and wasted time.
chasing down those hot dog days
seeking again those lost weekends.
The weeks and months lost to labour
and some again to useless love.
Joyous hours of cloud chasing
And hours perusing stars above.
days lost in time to daydreaming
and night to scented gardens
lost alone to scent and sense
and joy the only recompense.
Hours lost to the longest looks
And days and weeks lost in books.
Days pilfered and then misspent
in the company of one time friends
I search in vain to find those days
so I can waste them all again.
The happiest hours and days of your life are those you pilfer on the small but vital pleasures and indulgences that we sometimes are foolish enough to call wasted time.
© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com