at the end of a day’s field
it is so lonely
at the end of a line
at the end of a stanza
at the end of a day’s field
the dust settling on an idea
that has had its day
tried its best
but failed to leave a mark
it is so lonely
sitting there scribed
pencilled in 4B
smudged like a cInder’s tear
forlorn is the thought
is the word that describes a thought
that has come to naught
at the middle of a page
at the end of a line
at the end of a stanza
at the end of a day’s field
that in reiteration says
nothing more than nothing was
at the end of a line
at the end of a stanza
at the end of a day’s field
repeating the fog horn forlorn
upon the high tide’s making
smashed and drifted spume
dried upon a parchment’s nothing
not even a breath stirs
a mind numb
a forlorn forlorn
an end ended
a beginning never started
a hiatus trussed in time
stopped
stop now! now!
at the end of a line
at the end of a stanza
at the end of a day’s soliloquy
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