SF (June 17 1942 / Troy New York)

What Is It To Waste A Night?

WHAT IS IT TO WASTE A NIGHT?

What is it to waste a night
When I have wasted years?
Why worry now so close to the end
Hasn’t it all been a waste?
Won’t it all be a waste one day
No matter how I play the game
Of seeking to make my name eternal?
But this is this night and no other
And I writing this now
Am redeeming it from ‘waste’
And fooling myself for one more day
‘It has not been a waste nothing is a waste
when I can write a real poem now.’




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