poetry

His Portrait-a poem

I watch his eyes

fill with endless

sorrow

to him no tomorrow

and me no today.

His portrait

hangs in the castle

of my memory.

 

I ran before he could

catch me

but long for him

to follow behind

my mind cannot

stay in one place.

 

His portrait hangs

in my memory

cracked glass

and recollections,

his eyes gaze upon me.

 

If I do ever wander

those halls

one night

again

with a lantern

in my left

and heart on my right.

I thought I heard

him crying for me.

 

It was probably some fantasy

of mine.

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1 thought on “His Portrait-a poem”

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