Wind carries dust
Discreetly
Over bookshelves
Shrouded in dimness

Beneath curtains
Fluttering softly
Near these windows
Sharing that breath,

Where filtering sun
Barely seen
From my ottoman
Hearing such noises

When nature sighs
Getting older
As the hours seem slow
All alone –

Each daylight
Robbed of its strength
During winter’s pass
At seclusion

So peacefully felt
Sitting sadly
Wasting lifetimes
Staring towards screens

And depleting time
Seeking proof
Of existence earned
Between movies

Letting illness
Become an obsession
Still lost among thrills
Playing games.

Those toys just can’t
Second-guess
Or pine for worlds
Beyond limits –

How I struggle
Remaining important
Despite writing again
Without need

Since controllers
Replace every thought
Just hanging on hands
While they fidget

From now knowing
Tomorrow’s repeating
Forever
This grey afternoon.

• J. Pigno