adventures in dysthymia

Wednesday, October 07, 2015

The Same, a poem

The Same

To give her up would be too easy.
To let her go, disappear

into another day — the sun
would still shine, would it not?

The rain would still fall. Everything
changes, just as it stays the same,

just as I would stay the same.
I shall not have a past, but live

along the empty roads where time
has forgotten its way. There, no one

knows her name. I may forget
it myself. Give it a while.

Stephen Brooke ©2015

only moderately obscure

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