Walk of My Days

I took a walk around my swimming and took the same seat I sat, eight or nine years ago, playing chess with one of my friends while my friend was swimming. Yes, I remember the time I first learned and started playing chess. I took down the piece and it fell on the floor. Reason for this piece of info, go figure.

So I sat down in the same seat I took. The wind in my hair and the rays sparking on the water was beautiful. I took out my pencil and book and wrote.

Meaning of Time

Does time mean a thing?
All my days spent,
Just waiting,
It came and went.

Is there a meaning to this?
All this regret,
A warning label I miss,
Saying pain is what you'll get.

Why don’t I understand?
That no matter how hard I try,
I sink deeper in sand,
As time passes by.

Is it too tough?
To let me go on,
With life, which is so rough,
With something important gone.

What can I do?
To help me see,
That all of this is true,
And I have to let it be.

When will it end?
All this pain,
Life has to send,
Has no gain.

Why is it so slow?
That life will remind,
Things I know,
But don't know where to find.

Does time mean a thing?
Don't give up everyone says,
I didn't and all the waiting,
Is wasting my days.

What does it mean? Go figure. But yes, typing this blog does waste my time too. And Sparks, if you did find this blog, you were wasting your time