Second Hand Man
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like Arthur Vaso.
She packed her bags one day
Left me in the dark
Running away, what a lark
I stare at the walls; life seems so bleak and stark
I wrote her love letters
Only a thousand or two
The poor old postman
Carrying them all back to my door
Return to sender was the obvious score
So I took my pen and wrote a few more
Before dousing my desires
In the illusions of folklore
Where out of the forest
On a mist filled dawn
Returned my princess
Singing our song
Alas I walk along lonely forest paths
I dream and ponder of what might have been
I look up to the heavens and demand, what was my sin?
That I am alone, surrounded in deathly silence
A second hand man
Waiting
For a second hand rose
Copyright © Arthur Vaso | Year Posted 2015
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