"In the Middle of Freedom" by Isabel Mansfield
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Linking with The Sunday Muse for Muse # 40
Come join us!
The sharpest sorrows are those which remain locked within our own breasts.
~James Lendall Basford
Linking with The Sunday Muse for Muse # 40
Come join us!
The sharpest sorrows are those which remain locked within our own breasts.
~James Lendall Basford
Words do not die
they wait in silence
as do the unspoken words of a
fool
they survive held captive
like an abducted child
waiting in bated breath
for a chance to escape
yet never losing hope in the years that pass
there are so many things I wish I
had said to you
I thought I would have the chance
but time can be a nimble thief
the chance has long since passed
songs on the radio send thoughts
reeling
like paper cranes in the air
that will never make it very far
sentiments of hope and love
lost down darkened halls
so many feelings wishing
for a way to be expressed
perhaps that is why
I became a poet
to give expression
to all my captive thoughts
a million different ways
of saying.... I wish you were still here.
©Carrie Van Horn 2019
Simply beautiful, Carrie. :-)
ReplyDeleteOne of your finest ~~~~~
ReplyDeleteGorgeous, Carrie!
ReplyDeleteTime as a nimble thief... that is a fascinating metaphor.. Thanks for sharing...
ReplyDeleteWonderful, Carrie . . :)
ReplyDelete