days

Days, ours or not, go very much the same,
And disappear by roads as yet unknown
Where shelter beckons but none think of rest
While they track down desires left unsung.

While they track down desires left unsung
The notes unheard yet form the longed-for line
And sweetly will it sound upon the day
That partial truth is possible again.

That partial truth is possible again
Time shows by ceasing, wishes die for good,
Naïve of them as now to hope for rest
We talk too much or have no words to say.

We talk too much or have no words to say
That partial truth is possible again.
While we track down desires left unsung
Days, ours or not, go very much the same.

written 11th May 1981

© John Close