When all is dark, the household sleeps but I lie wide awake
with no reprieve from racing thoughts and all my old joints ache,
I listen to the creeks and groans from age old walls and doors
absorbed in contemplation of depression and it’s cause.
Despondency lies heaviest upon a weary soul
when living life with gusto is a lost, aborted goal.
The black dog sings with hungry howls while supper is prepared,
its feast consists of hopes and dreams with ne’er a vision spared.
Humanity corruptible? I know that such is true,
when old friends show as counterfeit but masquerade as true.
The morning comes and brings a dose of clarity of thought
to cope with all the daily tasks, to function as I ought.
