Evanescence
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There were fireworks. It was The Fourth of July. People lay On their backs in the grass, And were awed. When the frantic Finale was over, they stood up And clapped, and then packed What they'd brought, and went Pell mell, like Sooners, from Where they'd been laying, to cars, Into traffic, eventually home. I was among them, a skeptic, No jingo, a communist, actually, There for the flowers which bloomed In the air, for the odor of sulphur, And your evanescence. I loved You at that time. I think I still do, But you're gone, like the fireworks. Little remains, marks in the grass From the thousands of backs, Beer cans in bins, and boxes Of pizza, and also, of course, My ridiculous longing for someone, Who, I believe, never intended To do more than light up my sky. © Lawrence Beck 2023
Thoughtful and wonderful poem.
You can certainly see your writing skills in your work. All the time go after your heart.
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