Sorrow* Poem by Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light)

HAPPY it was a word
I often thought of.
A sensation
I very seldom knew.
MUSIC a comfort and a friend
perhaps the only one.
I truly ever knew.
I sometimes thought it would be
will I ever know?
Yet unsatisfying,
barely fulfilling, still
it helps me on the road.

Life slowly slipping through my fingers
my eyes are filled with sand.
Work a never-ending nightmare
it fills me with unease.
I would rather die
neath the gentle quiet breeze.

Peace I seek it on the mountain
I find it in a shower.
In the stillborn moonlight
I slowly pass the hour.
One less lonely person
does the credit meet the cost
of that never ending nightmare
of that first real lousy boss.
Of a dream that turned to ashes
in the wind so quickly lost?

Life is but a busy subway
that the frail cannot cross.
And in the gutter we can find them
those that tossed the dice and lost.


Copyright © Terence George Craddock