I was a hologram of man, alone.

Abandoning the relics of yesterday
along the epitaph boulevard
walking on air
I wandered the ruins of today
observing the tombstone of broken dreams
lying in the grounds of tomorrow laid.

When the gaze through my reflection
fades to no more
I ride my playground
on a swing between
what was and what’s no more.
I have no name...
becoming the nakedness of nothing
where on northern lights
I see my sleigh.

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Andrew... “the tombstone of broken dreams” Hasbtouched me deeply. “Where on Northern lights I see my Sleigh”. Being Winter as I read your poem, I envision a romantic sleigh ride under the Arora borealis Lights.
truly, Pat

[andrew mitchell]

Thank you Pat for your kind words and your take on it.