Thrifty Hours - Poem by tyler madden
With so many hours piled on my back,
my spine collapsed; memory and I
shorter now than when in morning we sat
planning this day to be long.
Now, back bending over with my eyelids
in the curve of a cat, yawning and shivering, reminiscent
of grappling with last breaths,
off to little death like the night before.
And it’s sad
that others have saved their energy for now,
while I’ve spent all mine, in moderation surely, but all gone now
all the same,
spread thinly over so many long, plain hours
none now to waste on outburst -
the genuine joy needed now in seeing you,
who is deserving, wasted
on the exchange of pleasantries
with a crowd of acquaintances.
Comments about Thrifty Hours by tyler madden
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You