Like bright gold coins The days slip through My fingers, And the nights with you Are a delight, A dream That makes life seem A lazy, lovely pageant And our parts a role Without an encore, And without a goal. Why must a question Seep into my peace And pound and pound and pound At me without surcease? There is, I know, No answer Yet it grips me With the fear: Where are we drifting, My very dear? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 1. THE BRIGHT MOON by CONRAD AIKEN ALL FOOLS' CALENDER by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON THE EXECUTIVE by DAVID IGNATOW PENDULUM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON POSTHUMOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |