The Oniric  Fall

Loneliness, Just a little bit of sorrow,
A blind glimpse of Tomorrow,
A smudged memory of absinth,
It blossoms hopeful like a jacinth.

I started the journey weak and weary,
An old image to which I query:
"Where are you, my sweet muse?"
The concept that I ofthem peruse!

Remembering, burns the rage,
A confusion, landmark of age,
She forgot me; of love I am so poor,
Forgotten, like a child by the door.

Bitter moon, took the one I adore,
Amusing pain forever to endure