Poem: Lost

Just a little lost. A old poem, written a while back.

Lost

In yesterdays

we had thrived

pulling happiness from

the toughest branches.

And we had hoped for

the world to be

a better place for us.

But all it did was crumble,

between our fingers,

brittle and poor, like

dust amongst the books,

of stories untold.

We died in stray arms, holding

onto spirits of our imagination,

that had long lost their soul.

Seeping between the gaps of reality,

the frayed strands of

the illusions,

which had danced in our dreams.

Now they are caked

in the ashes

of older eyes, tired

and weary. Lost

and betrayed. 

Author's Note

Old poem. About the dreamer and the reality.

Reviews

[MOON]

Poignant lovely write the end of hope.

[Trevor Jay Bloodworth]

Beautiful. This was quite a read. Again, the word choices and the images cast are very well done.