Until the weeping eyes are visible

we can’t really know the pain,

when everything seems possible,

instead we lose our train

of thought,

so frought

we fought,

when ought

either one of us might instead,

recognize there is no realistic

time on love that wasn’t wasted

because we’d rather be frantic.

this security

a certain witty

banter is shitty

when only pretty

memories seem our last resort

because it never is real

our lasting hoping is out of sort

because it never is real,

until one day its all gone and we think it a pity

this casting shadow of hope’s lost serendipity.

this casting shadow of hope’s lost serendipity

this casting shadow of …

hope’s lost serendipity.

---

© Thom Amundsen 8/2021