poetry critical

online poetry workshop

the eighteenth year.

you have become the culmination of all my hope,
the disaster of my days
a restless spectator watching me turn in circles,
dancing for no one but myself.
years go by and instead of a tree and some free time
we have returned to empty hands and the shadows of dreams we have evicted from our hearts,
given away for ransom on the edges of an age.
i still miss you then as i wish you were here now.

8 Feb 11

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