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Where Are You

Where are you ? I waited all night until early morning began to sink its bitter cold into the coming day. I made room for you, held a seat for you at my table and set a plate of warm bread before your vacant chair. Days, weeks, years pass and I still wait. I am old now and my hands grow numb with cold. When will you come and sit with me, share the warm bread I have made for you. I am no longer sure that you even exist. Perhaps you are no more than a childhood ghost, mere smoke from the shorted out circuitry of another time, the hard to let go notion of a lost sublime, something precious I left behind.

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Sara Kendrick

Date: 8/25/2023 3:29:00 AM

Ahhh!! Romantic. Sometimes dreams are just what they are dreams. If the person was there, you might find that you would be wishing they were not there. Thanks for sharing this one with us. Sara

Paul Willason
Date: 8/27/2023 12:41:00 AM

Thankyou Sara for your comments...there's always a fibre of the romantic in all of us...cheers, Paul

Heidi Sands

Date: 8/12/2023 11:26:00 AM

Powerful poem. Well written :)

Paul Willason
Date: 8/13/2023 5:07:00 AM

Thankyou Heidi for kind words, your feedback is most appreciared. Paul

Lin Lane

Date: 8/12/2023 8:59:00 AM

Ghosts of loved ones from our past haunt our memories. Paul, the gravity of your lines always evokes a sadness within me that finds some link to what was or might have been in my life.

Paul Willason
Date: 8/13/2023 5:05:00 AM

Thanks Lin for your comments...always thoughtful. Do hope the sadness imparted by some of my lines follows more the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi....the sadness attached to beauty, impermanence etc....aimed for but not always achieved. Value your words...Paul

Di11y Da11y

Date: 8/12/2023 8:53:00 AM

Beautiful Paul, the evocative feeling on the edge of memory x

Paul Willason
Date: 8/13/2023 4:49:00 AM

Pleased that the words echoed DD. As always your support matters and is very much appreciated. Paul

Tom Woody

Date: 8/12/2023 6:00:00 AM

Love it. I have an old poem about a man who waits at his and his lovers fave haunt once a year for her return, in vain. Keep writing the good stuff Paul

Paul Willason
Date: 8/13/2023 4:47:00 AM

Thankyou Tom for yr comments and for giving the poem your time. Much appreciated. Paul