Forgotten
I’d made my account so poor
When on my mind things that lure
Befall on a snare insure
Lest my soul can ask no more.
In the trench I am by now
My head may have its bow
Upon this things along the rows
To which my eyes- the tears I’ll show.
For all is fleeting – yes indeed
And friendship bond conforms to it
And things forgotten can’t be retrieved
But if it can- these things I never writ.
Copyright © Ruth Wrights | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment