The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden
the unrequited eyes
of the brown-eyed barista I see in the store
small fortunes
so stingily shared to scribblers like me
the athlete's flesh
I had not too many years before
the time
I wasted on selfish spree
for Read Write Poem: let's get metaphysical
I like the concrete images you use to capture the mysteries of time passing.
ReplyDeletesome beautiful words used here - I love "unrequited eyes"
ReplyDeleteunrequited eyes and wasted selfish sprees. . . what an interesting poem that could use these very unrelated images.
ReplyDeleteThe cadence and solemn tone give beauty to the regret expressed in the poem.
ReplyDelete