Empty Glass Of Gone Pleasures Poem by Peter S. Quinn

My empty glass was once full
Of many day's pleasures
But now it's broken and dull
With empty lives treasures

All in its going and get on by
Full of its days once young
Love like clouds upon sky
Into an old pastoral song

Life love was its darlings
Of daydreaming and blues
Now life recollections it sings
Of many pleasures and truths

Cold cold despair from inside
The roads on its turning ways
Kiss of a dream that did abide
In the past nights and days

Love of its future is cold
Flowing on like breezy blow
No pleasures of days it can hold
Only the memories of its glow

Dreams are everything or nothing
Somewhere around in reality
But thoughts of its kiss are bluffing
Something of what might have been