Abandoned! Assaulting winds thrash flailing limbs,
denuding boughs of golden dress;
gone the gaiety of glowing beginnings
when springtime sun seduced soft soil,
fondling slight buds of green, foreplay in fecund fields.
Forlorn, like a vacant house,
dark windows blankly stare despair,
the fissured dream convulses;
Whistling winds, keening,
“Gone away, gone away . . .”
Where do dreams go when they die,
After the romantic sighs, after the broken-hearted cry?
Does a haven await perished aspiration?
Or is abandoned hope sour fodder
for rodents and insects pilfering?
Gather the wasted twigs, the windswept straw,
feathered soft with anguish breast plucked raw;
interweave new hope to resurrect cadaverous old.
Truth states roses bloom in desert sand;
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2019
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