Days I enjoy are days when nothing happens, <br />When I have no engagements written on my block, <br />When no one comes to disturb my inward peace, <br />When no one comes to take me away from myself <br />And turn me into a patchwork, a jig-saw puzzle, <br />A broken mirror that once gave a whole reflection, <br />Being so contrived that it takes too long a time <br />To get myself back to myself when they have gone. <br />The years are too strickly measured, and life too short <br />For me to afford such bits of myself to my friends. <br />And what have I to give my friends in the last resort? <br />An awkwardness, a shyness, and a scrap, <br />No thing that's truly me, a bootless waste, <br />A waste of myself and them, for my life is mine <br />And theirs presumably theirs, and cannot touch.<br /><br />Vita Sackville-West<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/days-i-enjoy/
