Poetry Friday

Concrete
(an original)

what i think to myself--
it comes out slowly,
bit by bit

the wishing, wanting, longing,
never ends until it stops,
golden leaves trampled into dust
blown gently through the wind
lingering like
the fading days of autumn, before
a winter storm,
when it lays and dies.

but silly me, I didn't notice
until I stopped,
turning my head back
(just a glance, really)
and was surprised to see it gone.

no, I did not want this
but then maybe I did
or else it wouldn't of happened,
but even then it still hurts

it's hard to give up dreams
when they say it's all you've got--
But I'd feel worse knowing
that I had blindly gone on.
the future (lies) hollow, empty
waiting to be filled

there is nothing inside me, yet
but fragile, perfect
hope

... I've been thinking quite a bit about the future lately, as we all do, and it's been kind of bitter sweet for me in a lot of ways. I wrote this poem a few days ago in response to what I was feeling. I'm planning on regularly participating in Poetry Friday now, for future reference :)