Against My Will, Against My Choice.

In the most cruel gaits of time I find
when starts to crawl from its dark repose
pokes me pushes me into its grind
and keeps me all day on my toes
my hostility to the rising sun
and often the pesky dusky nights
blame not me but its misrun
no argument to con to array fights
tries hard to cast me in its racial feuds
no wonder I like nights for talks
no resting dulcet interludes
no wonder I like sleepy walks
all the play and all its hum
strive to snatch my lineament
frame on me my indolence some
so I look back to lament
its heart is such vicious saw
to the giant green in me
whose deep roots it can never draw
but its half can surely see
its now swiftness of the teeth is felt
some slender shoots are bleeding sap
some tenderness in me has knelt
while falling into this torpid trap.

A cold heavy night is going past
with no reasons to rejoice
leaving me dreary and aghast
against my will, against my choice.