Friday, April 29, 2005

I'm so tired of being here,
of these tidal waves that do not subside;
but when it's all over I'll come back for another year.

The time dwindles as I know the end is near,
and I'm telling myself not to give up, to know I've tried;
I'm so tired of being here.

Until then I'm waiting for everything to clear,
watching, immersed, as the waves collide.
But when it's all over I'll come back for another year.

But what remains, if any, is what I fear-
for things have changed, things have died.
I'm so tired of being here.

It's the things I see and pretend not to hear,
realizing that the waves have put me outside;
but when it's all over I'll come back for another year.

Now as I leave I can't help but think the damage is more severe,
seeing what came in with each tide...
I'm so tired of being here,
but when it's all over I'll come back for another year.


My attempt at a Villanelle. I haven't been in the swing of poetry for a while, but figured I could get back into it.

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