It hangs heavily
the left over blanket of
long waits;
night has just deserted me
morning wears unwashed dress

through quagmires camouflaged
I made an effort
friendship with my solitude
carries a whole host of
sunken memories

sometimes past swears to itself
with it’s silent anguish
gazing at the purloined treasures
my desires have inherited
fanciful questions come to fore

I walk together
with my past ahead of me
I wonder
when this past will run out
and morning will wear a new dress