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When an item has been lost, we go over the familiar routes to find it.

-Tracing over previous steps for a lost wallet.

When Hope is lost, we go to where we once held it.

-The theist may turn to his god. With trembling lips and a deep fervency he begins.


But where do you go when love has been lost?

The familiar routes are left empty with stained walls covered in worn out pictures.

Tracing over a million steps down empty hallways.

Perhaps lost love is one thing that can not be found again.

It requires new pathways with new structures.

And so your reconstruction begins.

That momentous task.

Not me.

I am convinced that a structure can no longer contain me.

And yes from time to time I look up at the faded pictures but I more contented in solitude.

In sleeping under the open night sky.

In sitting in the caravans of gypsies. 

Let my love to remain lost and unbuilt within me. 

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Sassylass's picture


Made me sad, ache..

Hope gone, no desire.

Well penned , my friend

Poetry is passion,imagination & soul mixing together....