Misty To Dark Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Stir my boat to mornings going
Flowing evening and afternoons

Dreams formulated phrase glowing
As the sun settled for full moons

Yesterdays are sprawling on a pin
Memories wriggling in a thought

Where should I begin from within?
To presume of what it is or ought

Day in ways of forward wave
All their longings in their phrase

Dying falls of all their crave
In the minutes of their reversed ways

There will be times at window-panes
When I will look thru the mirror glass

Coming and going time’s broken lanes
So much from its sleep of what was

Time will descend the stair of light
Onto the oblivion of dying fall

Further behind the darkish night
As memories formulate and call

Hundred visions of what has been
Never again to come near

That my days for long have seen
Now so obscured and unclear