N.K. Trevor


You don’t lie your name to strangers, that’s just a shame
Though- still the ‘first lie’, it contentedly made its stain
Now I call you ‘Angel’, like it’s your real name
And Oh no… Here it goes, often as it comes again

You were such an angel, -THAT- I always recall
Not much about it I can say now, or even explain
But the memory like a Rembrandt picture on my wall
Leaves my crusted heart thrashed with its own regret strain

I wasted so much time, and I have only myself to blame
With many at times, thoughts heavy like nimbus on rain
Now the past is running so fast, A state not easy to tame
Since the first moment we had… before the broken chain

Too much time is passed or ‘is thought’ as gone by
But never the less, the rail usually leads back the train
And sometimes may be the last call, would but try
…To mend the little bit of an uncertain wreck, that may still remain

Now as I look at you, I wonder in a- too awful for words- daze
What is it that your clouded head so much contains?
You seem much pretty but- time after time- lost in an occasional maze
Between your life’s desires and what comes to you in disdain

Much more than the kaleidoscopic life, you relentlessly live
You border on a hazy magazine of rutted joy and pain
And copious concern is just but a fortification I can candidly give
In return, for what may be less a chance or a timid effort in vain

So I see a friend in you or conceivably much more
But a spoken word maybe a blade that someone may get slain
So I shell in reluctantly, sit back and watch you run the show…
But it’s a long time now, yet the first memory still vividly un-refrains

Submitted: Tuesday, March 04, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, March 05, 2014

Topic of this poem: lost

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From the COllection 'Remembrances'

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