Call Me Wistful


Time wiles away, barely noticed by the clock.
I'm so lost in far-away journeys,
its awareness stalls my motion and stands still, my pace .


Careless moments pass by the wayside,

my gaze trained to the skies of yesterdays
and my mind wrapped around billowy clouds.


I grow nostalgic in remembrance
as days long past flit by like antique picture shows,
grainy and distorted by their long, stored away years.


In a mood, melancholy and reflective,
I languish in a woolgathering state,
preoccupied and pensive in this little bit of infinity.


Memories, fresh as the current air, wash over,

warming me, where I thought was now cold.

His face still a vivid dream, his hands still touching.


Some things never leave a heart so young,

A heart so broken and remaining still...

Broken, empty and longing for shadows gone.


Here, in this mere spell of perpetual forward motions,

I remain entranced by my recollections of former days.
I guess, you could call me wistful...

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Beatnik1979's picture


This is an outstanding poem..Superior choice of word, coupled with imagery that is delicate and graceful. I really enjoyed this...and would like to emphasize the excellence that is withing each line and word. Well done!

cathycavalcante's picture

My humble thanks to you,

My humble thanks to you, William, for your too-kind words on this piece.

I'm glad you enjoyed the read.

Its an older piece, but a fav of mine that meant a lot and means even more now.