by Richard Vince
Perhaps I did not know joy after all:
Not the sort of joy that grows
Slowly but determinedly, like spring
That never declines into summer.
Lovely moments are so much
Easier to enjoy when I do not
Dread what follows them;
When everyday is not
Synonymous with misery.
The desire to escape is
An exhausting one: making plans
That never come to fruition,
Imagining different lives that will
Never be lived, always being
On the lookout for a way out.
Now, at last, I have a life into which
I can relax; a life that I know
Is better than any fantasy
My imagination can create. I lie
Among the greenest of grass, basking
In the warmth of a love that shines
Stronger with each passing day.
Posted on 01/07/2018
Copyright © 2018 Richard Vince