Left
Sometimes it don't seem right.
You look around to see what's left.
To ask yourself where to now.
What for, why and how.
The faded sun has left it's mark.
But you can't see it in the dark.
The morning light get's in your eye's.
And you realize you have to rise.
You put on some coffee, pop in some toast.
Pray to God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost.
Ask for forgiveness and to be blessed.
And hope they don't think that it's in jest.
Now I see the past is gone.
It disappeared with the new dawn.
The silent whisper of the past.
Telling me it does not last.
Faith is floating in the air.
As time goes on, there's less to spare.
The flame is burning much too hot.
When you have been put on the spot.
Diminished essence of the day.
Show's the living a new way.
A different hue of colored dreams.
That's what's left, it seems.
Copyright © Robert Johnson | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment