Laurence Overmire


Over The Hill - Poem by Laurence Overmire

In middle age
you find
the bridges are burned
there’s no going back
a long climb to the top
of a lonely hill

the sharp descent is
quick and foreboding
the road disappearing
in a thicket of lost hope
a dust of memory
choking back

tears.


(Previously published in The Poet's Porch, Sept.2000)


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 10, 2008



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