by Richard Trotter
Our colors did not match
our rooms were made of cloth
and now they're split by rain
a clinging stain upon the earth
is all that its worth.
Our wings did not connect
and lead us to the clouds
a thread thats worn to mute
and once again, the fabric frays
only the loneliness stays.
Author's Note: it hurts to be rejected.
Posted on 01/06/2004
Copyright © 2020 Richard Trotter
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Maureen Glaude on 01/06/04 at 05:01 PM|
this is so beautiful, (to use an over-used word, sorry) - it couples the fragility of a butterfly with that precious, exquisite but breakable item - friendship. and a part of our fabric seems to break with that loss. I get it perfectly. Yes, none of us bears rejection too well.
|Posted by Michele Schottelkorb on 02/16/04 at 07:19 PM|
this perfectly describes a dead frienship... excellent in it's true nature... sad, but true... congrats on POTD... blessings...
|Posted by Sam Roberts on 02/16/04 at 08:56 PM|
Well done on poem of the day Rich :)
|Posted by Stephanie Kent on 02/16/04 at 09:04 PM|
Even though this poem is so heartbreaking, I had to smile when I saw it was poem of the day:) Congratulations xx
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 01/03/13 at 06:13 PM|
as Maureen said, simply beautiful.