Rue Poem by Albert Ahearn

The seemingly moving white cumuli
Above me drifting aimlessly away
Like youthful fantasies: old passerby’s
With muted roles in an unscripted play;
Foregone dreams with only one performance
Like yesterdays unique morning sunrise;
Witnessing it should never be left to chance
For the moment may end in sad good-byes.
Oh! The many forsaken dreams that died,
Aspirations that never dawned a day.
Oh! If only my orbs were wide-eyed
Instead of my groping every which way.
Alas! The clouds are a constant reminder
Of youthful dreams I let fade and wither.