Sometimes we do.... sometimes we don't....
Silent steps from the deep end of Eternity
Seem to echo more mournfully down the corridors of your loneliness.
The long march of a tall man
Casting his lengthening shadow slowly toward your fretful feet
Every minute: missed
Some days: distressed
Every week: wanting
Some months: mourning the more
Every season: seeking still.
Each year, a year of no lesser yearning
A year yet lacking resolution:
Learning,
That a coming to terms
With ‘coming to terms’
Comes only in its own time…
Only on its own terms.
Very introspective piece, Tony. Quite a lot of underlying sadness to be felt here. Love 'corridors of your loneliness'. We can also relate to 'coming to terms with coming to terms'.