"gone are the days of what i loved,"
she cried at four years to me;
but i felt what she meant, i think,
for all we know is what we've seen
in lines and circles, blurred with tears,
like laughter spread across a pool,
we reach for what's no longer there,
and think how kind life is, but yet
how cruel
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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