Connie Pachecho Poet Free verse

The Poem I Never Wrote

The Poem I Never Wrote

Is still on my lips 

Buried treasure at the time

Now it's a barnacle on the ships side 

And with each passing year

It keeps growing and growing

In infamy 

In its infancy, some 50 years ago

The stage was set

We were twelve, once

Like two seagulls circling the sea

In harmony 

But I didn't have the gull

To hold her hand

Or pass her a love note 

No, no
 
Theres was no poet in me

Or a lion

Only a snail

It tears me to think about it

How our butterflies fluttered 

And I didn't catch hers

connie pacheco 

10/7/22

Not for contest

... it kept growing and growing, becoming 

saltier and saltier

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Beryl Edmonds October 7, 2022 at 5:51 PM Lovey poetry Connie, if the poem you never wrote is still on your lips you should write it… Belle

Michelle Faulkner October 7, 2022 at 4:34 PM Hi Connie, this is such a poignant reflection on loss and regret, the sadness of not catching her butterflies is so evocative~