Mooncalf

( a Sonnet )
 
The days are drifting by without me here,
Though not for trying hard and do I care.
A time ago it all seemed very clear,
 Until I found I’m really over there.
 
I sent myself a card “wish you were here”,
By then it had returned “no one at home”.
To look inside, to see me disappear,
I ponder what for me’s the great unknown.
 
I spend away the reasons in a dream,
To toil on end at nothing, foolishly.
So unaware that I’m not what I seem,
As air is life and shade is from a tree.
 
To ne’er recall what do I have to fret,
I think I know I should but I forget.
 
 
 
 
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