Scarce Imagination

O Night! Where is my yellow window of light;
The zenith of so many of our adventures together?
This lamp casts a somber shadow, not the brightness I like.
Scarce Imagination vexes me. Is it why I do wither?

Words find it hard to wriggle out the fancied world;
So they snuggle up there, chuckling at my irritated self.
Ideas, Expressions - now seem like friends of the past,
Lost in the sepia frames of my old picture album.

There's Music playing in the background - incoherent notes.
Even songs lose their meaning in this delirium of sorts.
I grope in this darkness slowly engulfing my very being;
But I just scrape at my thoughts - evanescent and ever eluding.

My bruised ego steals a peek into pages filled long ago,
With a certain longing to indulge in the pleasure again.
I strive time and again to eulogize my debacle.
But even in my darkest efforts, those words do desert me.