Forgotten Booth

/ poems

Lost Connections

A relic rusts where green once gleamed,
A silent sentry, lost in dreams.
Where voices once did weave and twine,
Now echoes whisper of lost time.

A field's embrace, a hill's cold stare,
The ocean's sigh, a mournful air.
No hand now seeks its glass-eyed gaze,
Those who called have been long gone for days past.

phone

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