A Long Laze

A Poem by piccolabeth

So rare, it seems, I find the time
To sit alone with my thoughts.
Perhaps for fear that things have changed
And that my turmoils are keen to cavort
With the pain and the tears that used to haunt me,
Or the unfaithful past which seems to taunt me.
Instead I sit alone, safe with distractions,
Scared that my mind might work in fractions.
How can I learn to be alone with my minds eye
When each day that passes me seems to just fly by?
Ripping away what was left of my sweet song,
Leaving no trace of the me that could be wrong.
Oh, how I miss those sacred, scattered days -
Doing bugger all but enjoying the long laze.