Lost Times

For this single straying second I shed a single tear
In the deepest depths of my thoughts,
Which have stayed still and sad
These thoughts of all the lost times, that I can still see so clear
And wish I had harnessed them better,
When those times were there to be had


I look at the broken twig
That looks like a lost bit of wood
And lies in the rain splattered mud
Like a forlorn figure, no good

I look at the faded buff of tea
That lays all cold and blunt
On the corner of the veranda's teapoy
As it bears all the downpour's brunt

I look at the torn tarpaulin
That says of the times bygone
Of busy flitting times that bustled
And fizzled since the ताता had gone

I look at the smoke-stained stone
That has borne the brunt of the soot
And now shows a dull fading face
Even as the culprits hoot

I look at the weed strewn fields
That reek of an orphaning neglect
Of their fertility wasted in folly
Of the poor father and his hapless regret


For this single straying second I still look at those times lost
In the deepest depths of my thoughts,
Which have stayed still and sad
I shed a single tear for the brimming moments I tossed
And let them go all adrift,
When they were all there to be had


Vindy