Picture courtesy of almostfamous1983.wordpress.com
A voice rings from
the past
Talking of change
and desire
Wanting freedom
from constraints
Invisible shackles
drawing blood
His voice weary,
tired and strained
A lost soul he feels
he is
Wandering on a
foggy path
Trying to find a way
through it all
His search has been
long
Fruitless mostly he
feels
With some sparks
of genius
That gives rise to
hope for more
Soon he knows
he’ll leave
For pastures
new
Stayed long past
his time
Gone stale in
all his hopes
As he tells his
friend
He feels better
for it
Knows that all
will be fine
Patience is a
virtue he knows
His friend though
sees his life mirrored
Seen all he’s said
reflected back
Knows he too
must do likewise
Before he gets
trapped
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Posted in: Poetry
Posted on August 8, 2014
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