The Last Days Of Inspiration Poem by Raj Dronamraju

They said I ended him
He was not as tall as I remember
The memory was too impressed with reputation and bearing and is not reliable

They said this would never end
And we could argue about whether this was a lie or an incorrect prediction
Now you wished you could have grasped it whole and knew you did this

We did not realize it at the time but these were in fact the best days
The days of accomplishment and relaxation in equal measure
All those hours in a succession of hazy filtered sun in the act of setting

Remained in a state of satisfied tiredness
Happy to sit on the deck and watch the sun be dragged down against its will
It bleeds orange complaint as a result

Framing days where we never fully woke up
Current status is non-acceptance of environment, of situation
Safe as smoking three packs a day

To not die here but deflate like a children's wading pool
Neglected in autumn, filled with muddy brown water
The stagnant status of once supple source is shared sorrow