I reach out for you,
I reach out for the memory,
But it is fading.
It is twilight before dark,
A shadow of what it once was,
A phantom chorus.
Just sound echoing,
Through empty corridors,
Without meaning.
I reach out, get lost
Amidst the monsters
Of past regret.
The tendrils of the dream fracture –
I have lost my way, the path
Through this dark forest.
© 2021 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 