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Rated: E · Essay · Arts · #2159429
Bonjour ma tristesse!

Fugit irreparabile tempus...
Publius Vergilius Maro (70BC-19BC)

A grey day's light is fading,
The dusk turns into night
As if a flock of birds discards
Black feathers in their flight.

My dark feeling of longing
Is trickling into pain,
The way the mists of autumn,
Turn slowly into rain.

My path ahead is hidden
No cheer, or joy, or glee
My wistful thoughts arising,
Like clouds out of the sea.

Where are the days, I wonder?
Of mindless, careless bliss,
When love was ah, so groovy,
And fate hung on a kiss?

I’ll throw a party for my friends
With wine and sweet champagne
A toast to love and to long life
My health. Oh, so insane!

I want them to feast and be merry
None’s eager to hear me moan,
For they’re encumbered in excess
With troubles of their own.

They play life's gambit every day
And strive to score their gain,
But at the end of things, all walk
Same lonely paths of pain.

Mobile, January 16, 2012
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