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Rated: E · Poetry · Spiritual · #2214046
A person, unhappy with the mundane, regrets the loss of something daydreamed, unredeemable
Does it rush at you,
too quickly and sinister,
as if lying in wait for a wakening?
You had a fondness for a thing
ambered now,
in its beauteous fade.

What’s left for us,
after such withdrawal,
stewed, now, in the certainty of worry?
Chastened in the land of hurry.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2214046