Oh, my goodness

Where did you come from?

An unexpected find

Here in the discard pile.

And isn’t that a terrible thing?

A terrible way to describe us,

All of us.

But here we are

Call it what you may.

We who have lost out

At love,

Have misplaced our joy.

Who search

With a primeval memory

Of what it was like to touch

To laugh

To soar through the night

And bask in the light

Of that special one.

But for us


It is tough.

There are a lot of us

And we are relatively easy

To find.

But not all still have their juices,

Their smiles.

Some so beaten down

There is no real life remaining.

And then

Your beautiful blue eyes appeared.

Eyes still somewhat haunted

Touched by pain or loss

A treasure on the discard pile


It is not coming…….  Later



It’s not home, but I live here

Delray Beach, FL

10:06 AM