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 Grandeur Of Melancholy      13121 Poems Read



Lost To Time

Part of me in dinosaurs and
where the show is missing,
and the play has no script.

That I get to searching
in a trash bin,
for that never again.

Somehow it was meant
this article, a piece
of media, this portions 
of something you remember.

But you can't find it.
As if in a physical form
hold, touch, and see
otherwise it never existed.

Seems strange to think
that days, nights, years,
lives are not mass produced
pressed and factory made.

All those loss like
a line someone says,
or things you keep close.

Like what you once
hold to, like a fire
on a cold day.




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