Ulysses

My life has not been like Ulysses’ life.

That’s not the kind of hand that I was dealt.

But yet I look out at the sea and think

I know what kind of pain he must have felt.

It hurts to feel the days roll into years—

These twilight years so full of idle time—

And know there will not be another chance

To chase another dream I can call mine.

The embers still can glow and warm the heart,

But never do I fan them into fire,

Lest for fear that I will burn my last coal up

And leave myself with nothing to desire.