Saturday, December 10, 2005

Four A.M.

Right now, I'm feeling just a little tired.
It's not because I'm old; if I were old,
The air in here would seem a trifle cold,
But I'm not cold. Instead, I feel inspired,
As if the life that I've always desired
Is just over the next hill. I was told
This day was coming, beautiful and bold,
By someone I once knew well and admired.

He's dead now. Everybody I once knew
Is dead or dying, tired or cold or wan.
I ask myself sometimes who's here, who's gone,
Who gives a damn, is everything still true
That underpinned our lives? We're still a crew
Of angels, aren't we, watching for the dawn?

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