you are the dust on the graveled road

as I travel returning home

where once I journey toward you.

I say I am lonely, proclaiming the color

of my day on pallid skin,

it magnifies in the landscape, patches of weeds

which grow unattended to;

palm leaves sweeping the blue

shades of images buzzing

inside my head,

as I grow accustomed to gazing

at peeling paints on billboards which once

implied of life.

I'd say, the songs of the winds are gone,

replaced by whimpers of grasses

in the long hours of summer.

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9inety's picture

This is a great poem. It fills the reader with a sense of memory, beautiful lingering imagery of angst a bit of sorrow for a lost time in past days when there was way to go home. Alas, we can go to a place where we once were, but we can never find a path back home the past is gone. You have a very easy way with your words they show off a beautiful, charming and smiling heart.

"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"

Dylan Eliot