Until the weeping eyes are visible
we can’t really know the pain,
when everything seems possible,
instead we lose our train
either one of us might instead,
recognize there is no realistic
time on love that wasn’t wasted
because we’d rather be frantic.
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