In Failing…

October 25, 2011

Leaving him,
This lonely street,
Has been his company.
He’s standing there,
With an empty stare

-with all he might ever be

Staring right there back at him
-What’s he supposed to do?
The wind, it whispers
How does he know it’s not true?

Short hair the hue of twilight’s air,
Two shoulders shiver, wet.
His hat clenched in a motionless hand,
A fist, tight with regret.

Two feet, one on each paving stone,
-A couple in between,
His weary mind remembering,
Things he had once…

Clouds lined with threads of
Red and gold.
A seagull soaring, ocean-bound,
While ebbing surf back-rolled.

Hair, like a feathery waterfall,
Eyes, bright as a thousand stars,
Leaning on The Everlasting Love,
Rapt in eachother’s arms.

A baby’s face,
Short, tender cries;
Smooth, soft,
Sweet skin;
Tiny, brown eyes.

All this now fading
-Embers nigh-dead,
Through a smoke-filled memory.
What can be no longer
Fickly framed
In failing


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