Long Forgotten

photo credit: AegirPhotography The Excelsior I via photopin (license)

I cannot express if this is sorrow.
This emptiness can feel like all I am.
I no longer dream, not for a long time
Hope has long deserted that treacherous harbour.
My soul has become like a ghost town,
Light has departed, set sail from the shore.

I am hollow, I am a wasteland,
The twisted wreckage of an invisible child.
An orphan of time and tide, marooned
In the shadow of the meeting
Of that which might-have-been.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

5 Comments

  1. This is the kind of poem that makes you just want to hug the poet and be a help to them. These words especially resound with me:
    This emptiness can feel like all I am.
    Hope has long deserted that treacherous harbour.
    The twisted wreckage of an invisible child.
    An orphan of time and tide

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Aah, thank you Denise. To be honest I did not realise I was feeling low until I wrote the opening line of the poem and then it was like a dam bursting as the emotion poured out. I actually wrote the first draft of this poem about a month ago, so I have moved beyond the worst of those feelings now. And I don’t think it was triggered by anything in particular beyond this crazy year we are all living through. But thank you much appreciated.

      Liked by 1 person

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