The ashes of youth

I don’t really understand the system
not really having anyone to talk to
the falling of leaves
when yellow
I think getting worse at being on my own
this is the vagueness of it
do hang upon those boughs
I feel I’m in the wrong place
don’t think I should be here
I suppose they want to keep an eye

I walk around and hope
on the whole I have been ambulatory
this feeling of being dependent riles
its lack of communication
in one thou seest the twilight
I’ll try to make conversation
but deaths second half
it’s the fact of being somewhere I didn’t mean to be
I’m not free
can’t just walk out
in the ashes of youth
I don’t feel as if I’m in
most of the time I forget:
I’m lingering around
consumed by that which wasn’t nourished by
I keep myself walking because if you stop you have had it
I walk the corridors the nuances
the human picture
ere long
when yellow leaves
shake against the cold


Doris Swain
17th October 2008

Photo © Lois Blackburn 2009