what I cannot fathom

is the dream I hope for

the ambition wearies my imagination,

a one not ‘once before’,

and trickles down to grey

blank slate

a new beginning in my hand

to transpire

happily ever after,

if only my endeavors were not so old

and dead,

if only they were a fragrance alive

ceased by the time of sparked moments, inhaled

exhaled, in all dewy mornings’ mist

to come,

but sunrises know not how to fade

so never will it be,

just as the sunset has yet to grow

so never will it be,

so, surely my imagination wonders


and has yet to grow

but never will it be

to fade, even amidst

the rainbow well run dry


Todays best new poem was written by Libby Marshall.


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