February 19, 2010

1 Comments

February 19, 2010

 

 

I.

 

I am a child reaching

For a toy I can’t reach

But I see it and I want it.

 

II.

 

When thoughts become

Suddenly too hard to manage

And it’s all just a fantasy

All of my energy is exhausted.

 

III.

 

While she is busy

With one thing

or another

I am as always

In the same spot.

 

She is a fragment

In my mind

For now until

I can have her for real.

 

IV.

 

It would be nice

To see you for real

If I could afford the luxury.

 

V.

 

As I look up from below

Down underground

I reach up and try

To grab something.

 

I can hold on to

The air and the wind

But I cannot hold onto her.

 

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hippiegirl commented on February 19, 2010

03-12-2010

Heartbreaking.....beautiful words. Very well written

Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

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