small poem for 4am

Where have the dramas and daydreams gone,
gloomy at rest and at dawn? I learned the ways and the names of some,
counting them one by one: like beads in a game, they rattled refrains
like peas in a hollow drum.
They flowed through my fingers like sorrows remembered, like wars relinquished and
Won;
And each precious moment earmarked to be kept, now dashed to the ground and done;
Like beads in a game, they rattled refrains, like peas in a hollow drum.
And if i could win the sight of the world, the world that the lover lost
In the body and arms of the girl i loved, in the footsteps that we crossed
Then i'd pay with words and money, id pay with fire and frost,
Id pay with my heart and my blood and my soul, id pay whatever the cost.
But the answer returns like the wave that spurns, the breeze that strikes us dumb,
And the trinkets i count and covet amount to a paltry sum:
Like beads in a game, they rattle refrains
Like peas in a hollow drum.