My soul is lost forever in a dense fog,
Swirling around in a vortex at the edge of an Irish bog.
The fallen tree has now been cut up into logs,
For my open fire, to give me warmth to dream of my desire,
Hoping to find your love again,
Maybe in some deep forest, I will see that amusing glint of your spoilt eyes,
Like the hot, unforgiving sun melting the ice,
As i remember I turned to look with awe at you twice,
With the roll of the dice,
Falling blindly on the wrong nunber,
As we embraced each other, just so nice.
But your heart was made of cold, steel grey,
As you served me alcohol in Waterford crystal glass on a silver tray,
My heart had begun to fray,
With so many loose threads, in the month of May,
You stole every good thought,
As I challenged your opinion, as your agile mind fought,
To make me into your possession that didn't have to be bought.
I hear now you own small planes which you fly high up in the skies,
Always observing everything from a great distance,
Does your eyes still tell so many lies,
As I remember the way you held me at the local dance,
Blue skies have taken you away from our romance,
You live for your pleasure even when you had found your treasure,
You threw it away,
Now you search relentlessly for a new thrill to fulfil each day!
Once love has gone, it is unlikely to be retrieved, so best to move on. Well expressed feelings on lost love. Well done Hazel.
You stole every good thought SAD! Yet how in time we gain from these lessons. Keep smiling possum. o :)
the loss of love is one of the hardest things to get over, a great poem.
Dear madam, you have so movingly delineated the sweet memories of lost love in this poem.Beautiful poem. I appreciate it.
Swimming in the sea of sadness.yet eloqiently ezpressed. The first.few lines.are loaded with lovely language.
Sweet memory of lost love nicely painted......................10
The lover has captivated the maidens heart. Yet his attention only lasts for a little while. His love for planes and flying takes precedence right now. She still has hope and passion. Might help to go fly with him. Poignant write.
Certain things are so delicate that they have to be handled very carefully and love is such a thing. Humans survive on love and perish in its absence. Again. an insightful poem from you, Hazel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
great expression and very well versed.. metaphors are so nicely delivered..as My heart had begun to fray, With so many loose threads, in the month of May, again in the line Now you search relentlessly for a new thrill to fulfil each day! - pregnant with pain and burst into romance... lovely imagery.. thanks for sharing.....