-- The Days of the World --

John Herlihy

I feel sorry for the world and its days;

The perennial message it always conveys.

Time’s arrow flies without any hesitation.

Minutes become hours without permission.

The sunlit morning rushes full speed ahead,

The noon meridian a turning point instead.

The day still rushes forward, as it loses its bliss.

Every moment happens we may or never miss.

A brief respite there in the lazy late afternoon.

As the day begins to die, sad sentiments bloom.

The battle of light and darkness turns into a rout.

The crimson flames die down and soon burn out.

The day vanishes into the night, will it ever return,

To shine as a new day as we thru the night yearn.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Wednesday 12 May 2020