My Lost Book

oh, how I miss those days

The summer sun creeping in
through the skin.
Watershed in my eyes. At the end of the day
thoughts sunk in, loopy and dull.

Walks made were long, and
my legs feel short of breath.
Yet an odd reflection proved
I am wrong, again.

Scattered eyes
throughout the way, annoys.
I cupped my hands
to find the desired feeling; in vain.

The thoughts pinned down
were stolen.
The memoirs I collected
were stolen.

My Lost Book.

Reviews

[JENY]

Very fine depiction of tender feelings…..
Liked it very much…

[James Paulin]

A book full of blank pages allows everyone to read into the poem lost memories. I like the perspective of thoughts or dreams being stolen as many truely are by circumstance. I miss the glimmer of hope but, for some there is little or none, it is sad to say.