Crowded

Wanderings into manifestations of the subconscious
Trappings of a dream often noxious
In the still of a nighttime swell
Thoughts too obscure to compel
In a rambling memoir to which I suss
And the night wanes on and on and on
From the stolen dreams it rest its laurels upon
Not knowing what is false or true
But hanging onto the memory of you
A brief glimpse of what can so quickly be here and gone
Waning in my thoughts as the day draws to a close
Thinking of the fragrance of the summer’s latest rose
A passing thought of a lost destiny
The path of a denied serenity
And the long road along a footpath of woes
Though the outcome will always be forever clouded
And the future sealed  in a veil opaquely shrouded
Forever will a truth guide the way
Directing what the written words say
Through the collision of so many thoughts crowded


Copyright © 2016 Mr. Flying Pig

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