In the gentle, West Country light of
That summer, everything looked new
And laden with possibilities.

I lay on the bed in the corner room
For hours, deciding what I would do
If only I had the time and money
Of someone of a greater age.

Now I am more than twice as old,
I find myself repeating the process
As though I may actually
Do something now I’m here.

My ideas and ambitions are
The same, but the reasons for
My inactivity have slowly
Evaporated.

All that is left is my own inertia.
I have only myself to blame.

04/12/2012

Posted on 05/28/2012
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