you have me bewildered
as if a bird with a crippled wing
when i left
fall had become colors
turning cold against
the flush of cheeks
you missed your ride home
came back to say my name
why?
i liked your poems
when i couldn't see myself in them
or you and
what we had
i find myself
wanting more of them
the songs too
before this summer turns
to stone
i don't want to wonder
'if only'
you already do that
immortality makes me laugh
it's all too brief
and then we end up with
nothing at all
i've decided
people make too much of
everything
who really gives a damn?
Comments
Thanks Ian
I find it much easier to write the things I know, the people I've met no matter how brief, these letters for all intent and purpose are perhaps 'ripple' effects in my life. Most poets who write to prompts seem not to always put themselves into a poem, the passion for me is to open myself up to the reader and allow them little pieces of myself no matter how painful it may appear.
Such a beautifully subtle way
Such a beautifully subtle way to say what you say,
the underlying passion quieted to acceptance.
Love from Ann of Norway.
Thank you Ann, I am pleased
Thank you Ann, I am pleased you enjoyed it
Immortality is brief you say
Immortality is brief you say - when it is living forever, never dying? That's the only thing that jarrs here for me Chez. LuvAnnW