Was it a dream, this wilted bud
wasted among the trodden mud?

Was it a hope, this crumpled page
discarded near an empty stage?

Was it a wish, this broken quill,
nib splintered so the ink would spill?

Was it desire, this flint-struck flash
extinguished unto lightless ash?

Is it despair, this fatal sigh
when longlived aspirations die?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s