Just flew home from our holiday in Ireland… and, boy, are my arms tired! 😊
Apologies for the bad dad joke. And it seems a smidge out of place in its levity given the heavy mood of this week’s poem.
A dream? A purgatory? A ghost story? A parable of letting go? I will leave it up to you to decide what it’s all about.
As a writer’s note (and sidebar), I did not want to lose the emotion of the poem in a overly-rhyming feel, so used enjambment to carry the sentences from one line to the other. It still rhymes quite traditionally, just doesn’t feel like a sad Hallmark card.
As always, I would love to hear your thoughts and feelings about the poem in the Comments Section below. Enjoy (reader warning: you may want some tissues handy).
-PS Conway ☘ ☘ ☘
☘ ☘ ☘ ☘ ☘
hazy days by the lakeshore
lost inside a colorless dream,
our hazy days by the lakeshore
feel different now, it does not seem
quite real, this place we so adored,
like a faded photo, where two
chairs have turned to one, intended
for you to mourn alone, the blue
waves gray, reality suspended,
frozen within a memory,
and i, my love, must let it be,
let it fade soft and feathery
like the breeze from an angel’s wings