The Winter Years

 It's like -

Standing inside a dark well

Walls on all sides

A patch of sky

Distantly above

But far too far, and far too high

It's like - 

A dark room

Inky black

You don't know where the walls end or begin

Blind, so blind, but I feel them 

Closing, closing in 

It's like -

Being asleep

Moving through treacle

My thoughts sticky slow

I'm static, brought standstill

Nowhere to run, nowhere to go

I'm trapped inside the loop of circadian life

I blink - it's gone, another day, wasted

Empty black abyss

How did it come to this?

Time Ticked Awake

 Time ticked awake

and marched on, heedless

-of yesterday's goodbyes

or tomorrow's welcome

Uncaring of ours stake

-in life, and needless 

of our cries

the course is run

Time of death, mourning

don't protest, cry or shout

regardless, a new day dawning

this clock, shall not run out.