“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Saturday, July 16, 2016
Saying sorry doesn't help
My apologies
for the backwards way
we must lose before we gain
understanding
what we had
was good
and gone
evermore.
I am so sorry
you miss
the good old days
when we didn't know better
was brand spankin' new
coveting those thingamajigs
and do-hickeys
that distract.
In fact my sincerest,
condolences
are merely subatomic.
Again, my apologies
for keeping quiet
all to myself
when words were used
as light for color
reflecting more
off a wave
than a particle
can potentially be
nevermore
than sorry.
Painting via Internet Archive Book Images, 1911 [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.
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