Days I enjoy
Days I enjoy are days when nothing happens,
When I have no engagements written on my block,
When no one comes to disturb my inward peace,
When no one comes to take me away from myself
And turn me into a patchwork, a jig-saw puzzle.
A broken mirror that once gave a whole reflection,
Being so contrived that it takes too long a time
To get myself back to myself when they have gone.
The years are to strictly measured, and life too short
For me to afford such bits of myself to my friends.
And what have I to give to my friends in the last resort?
An awkwardness, a shyness, and a scrap,
No thing that's truly me, a bootless waste,
A waste of myself and of them, for my life is mine
And theirs presumably theirs, and cannot touch.
Vita Sackville-West (1892-1962)