Monday, 12 October 2015

in adapted sijo style

This winter, I look forward like I hadn’t ever before.

Sweet Autumn, forgive me this; an urgency has arisen.

The packed space - just too hot to bear; and the lethargy drives me nuts.

Is it me? I ask myself; and the answer’s far out of reach.

Morning breaks with rays of hope; yet when it’s time, I dread it so.

Not Autumn, surely you’ve been kind; as always and now, but it’s hot.

Terribly so I confess; seasons no bar, except winter.

The long days, the longer months, and the short nights my only time.
How eerie! Strangers’ eyes on me, as I talk about them and me.

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