What to do?
 
What to do with the days that are lost –
the ones you barely get out of bed?
The days you waste you longed for most.
 
The things you planned to do are tossed
aside, all energy has fled.
What to do with the days that are lost?
 
You intend to write a bit, at least
yet motivation’s replaced by dread.
The days you waste you longed for most.
 
Depression lurks, like a ghost
and emptiness opens up instead.
What to do with the days that are lost?
 
So you stare at who you’ve become, aghast –
the person you’d hoped to be is dead.
The days you waste you longed for most.
 
By now you thought you’d have it sussed:
how to hit the ground running, with firm tread.
But what to do with the days that are lost?
The days you waste you longed for most.

 Rosie Miles

If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Rosie Miles would be pleased to hear them.