How long should we presume this gilded age
Staring at the wall.
Ever longing…
Sometimes hoping
always longing
Wait now pause --
Silence fills the emptey streetes.
Where lovers met now mother weeps
still crowded silence falls
plastic magic with a switch
how much would you pay for that
what would you give for that
How long should we presume this gilded age?
I just thought of this idea for a poem and quickly came up with this. Consider it a work in progress
This poem is sad, yet romantic. I love the visualization and depth of emotion here, especially the line "where lovers met now mother weeps." Great short poem, I want to read more!
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