Lost Poetry

The Ephemeral Nature of Beauty

Image captured by the Author

So much poetry is lost,
Between the curves of an embrace,
Sincerity in a smile’s gloss,
And a lover’s longing face.

Between the curves of an embrace,
A grip of longing that won’t cease,
And a lover’s longing face,
Regret’s tears flow without peace.

A grip of longing that won’t cease,
In the waiting for a downpour,
Regret’s tears flow without peace,
Bleeding clouds and thunder’s roar.

In the waiting for a downpour,
Words are forgotten and fade away,
Bleeding clouds and thunder’s roar,
Leaving behind meanings to sway.

Words are forgotten and fade away,
As the ink mourns its loss,
Leaving behind meanings to sway,
And profound thoughts at a loss.

As the ink mourns its loss,
The beauty of earth eludes,
And profound thoughts at a loss,
Alone, fearful and subdued.