The Lover and the long week
it was a long week.
an old flame flickered.
another flame faded,
another felt jaded
and gave a pout.
the ennui likewise
began to burn, as i learned—
work is not for me.
i cried, i cried and cried
tears of tedium and a wary soul;
another white hair;
yes, i am getting old.
am i getting wiser, though?
that, is the question;
i have no oracle for that answer.
i wrote a little bit—
pining, planning, divining
a future unlike any
i have ever seen before.
for i am in control,
i remembered,
circumstance shall not
circumvent me and my designs.
i read The Lover this week
although i was not a lover this week—
i did love.
i always will.
lorenzo
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