Habitual existence
possessions embraced
too tired to move a thing.
Closed albums
never viewed
reminders of smiles and let's pretend moments.
Grand piano
not played
heavy and in need of recollection;
still it remains in place
part of you
part of us.
Unspoken words
passing in the darkness of now
candles burn into a sombre night.
The train leaves for nowhere
and we take our unloved seats
screaming into the dawn of another day.
We ride this lifetime
afraid of the greener grass
can't throw away what someone else might desire;
we're much too selfish for that...
Author notes
“There are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up.”
~Oscar Wilde~
A contest entry
- 1750 points available by Cinnarry.
1750 points, ended July 22, 2007, 10 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
.
-
Great..
Utterly..Butterly...Delicious
Adding your comment:
