Days of mellow wine

relaxing me, sublime

in the spring of my days

The spring

I wonder

how many dreams, how many plans

lay barren, cold and dry?

How many nights alone, unloved

How feared, the chance to fly

But seasons change and hope remains

beyond the clouded sky

With all I do and could be, now

still, I wonder why

Again I turn inside and see

things that are

and could not be

I know now, but did not then

The obstacle

was me

© Copyright. Peter Healy. All rights reserved. No part of this written work may be reproduced by any means; including but not limited to mechanical, photographic, digital, Internet or other electronic process; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or otherwise be copied for public or private use; without the expressed written permission of Peter Healy.