Wastelands

Wastelands of time
Moving from the river to the sea.
Awaiting melancholy feelings
To leave me be.

If alone by myself,
These wastelands will fill.
They will separate on whim
From this modal frill.

Insistance on highlights
And beckoning your cheer –
Leaves me hiding, shyly;
With nothing more to revere.

©2003 Joe Jenkins