The Search

Rating: 3.0
He was an illusion.
Sketched and refitted,
Ignored and cross examined,
But no more than an illusion.
Half made up,
An imagined virtue of my own.
Counterfeited to fulfill
A distraction to an obscure riddle
Of the heart.
He was a victim of impatience,
Lured by my hunger, and
Discarded like the joker in solitaire.
He was the piece of the puzzle
I thought I was missing,
But realized it never did fit.
He was the four leaf clover
You spent hours to find,
But in the end,
You had to tear a leaf to make it four.
Sunday, November 14, 2004

Delivering Poems Around The World

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3/3/2021 3:55:27 PM #