I remember the times...

Far and away, close enough still
going for the kill,
missing the skill,
the normal run of the mill

We are gone, far from home,
not a gnome
in the garden, a burden
but not Tyler Durden.

It is not my fight,
or my club, I might
think about it
like a lord Sith

Stuck in the city,
missing the plains, the hills
getting the bills,
despite the frills,

The mountain is calling
me, should I be
there, right now,
arrows and bow,
hunting the yesterday.

But hey,
the farm is closed down, no lawn
the garden is no more,
And me, I miss the old times,
the rhymes,
and the light is dimming down
slowly.

What else? Converse?
Or too much stress.