sadness of the early evening

the sadness of the early evening
is a fallen leaf
of unfulfilled yearnings,
withered and perfect.

The weakened sun through my curtains
as I stare, glassy-eyed,
lost,
I feel for a life laid to waste
by schemes
in high places.

Tired, walking through the same motions
once again, trained and meek,
my legs have no strength to jump.

People in the mist, in those lands
where idle days are idle indeed.

Hot chocolate and chatter with
intelligent friends.

Simple is best,
but sometimes one needs to go away,
far away,
from it all and get well lost.