What’s Past is Past

When last we met we carved our names
on that tree trunk and left it there
with thoughts it’d last, but last I passed
the tree, it’s trunk, the names, faded,
and that is that.



Poetry by Sameen
Read 2691 times
Written on 2025-09-19 at 17:24

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Love, obsession, and the likes, have this ability to sometimes inspire unrealistic expectations... hence the 'rose coloured glasses'. However, what a dreadful world it would be if we spurned such feelings and lived life in a stark black and white world eh? Of course it is sad that our expectations never materialised in circumstances like your tree carvings. Awfully the carvings themselves have faded: Normally they at least remain as a sweet reminder of what once was. Its a nice poem, though imparting sorrow. well done. Blessings, Allen PS: Forgive mu apparent verbosity. You struck a nerve!
2025-09-19


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Sic transit gloria mundi.
2025-09-19