Someone else’s notepad
yellow, but browning
forgotten ‘neath
dust of ages
thrust upon a shelf.
Plotting out poems
having been lonely
too long, still,
unsure,
forced out
to fend for themselves.
This is all the time they have left.
Haunted
in their emptiness
in their words too much to bear
if only
they hadn’t been left behind.
No comments:
Post a Comment