Fading,
the ghost of what was once fulfilling
haunting,
slips through my fingers
like the grains of rice I could be eating.
Overcommitted,
yet the debts all paid
and I’m repeating the pains
all the same.
It doesn’t give me joy no more
to give them what I needed,
because what I need
is changing seasons,
and I know I’ve passed my torch.
I trust in you
to carry on,
my love will still remain,
and if you need
I’ll brush the dust
to stand with you in rain.