Forget Me

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  • Sadness

    Forget Me

    Empty stares
    pass us as we move.
    We are there and then we go,
    and they look right on through.
    Passing on in a daze,
    a single gaze is all we need to fall on through
    the cracks in the streets,
    which have been left empty,
    like the mind of every child
    that passes your stare.
    Then once more we forget the face we have seen,
    never knowing once who they are,
    or what they may mean.

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    FrenzyWild’s Poems (4)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    moonlit cellar -3
    Creation of Imagination 0
    Stuck in the Rut 0
    Forget Me 0

    FrenzyWild’s Friends (2)