Monday, January 02, 2006

they were young to the world

They were young
to the world.
Only she would compose
her vivid dreams.
Soon, he was like
her silhouette:
black,
suffering,
surreal.
They were young
to the world,
but old to each other.

4 comments:

Shubhodeep said...

ah, i love poetry i can't understand! ;)

Anonymous Poet said...

Hmmm . . . an interesting kind of relationship.

Also, I posted a response to your question re publishing at my site. I hope that it helps.

yvaine said...

The worst kind of loneliness is that which occurs within togetherness.

:(

Sue hardy-Dawson said...

Wow what a treat after such a long silence. They feel like parts of each other. The line I read over and over though was
'Each brick,
is a fantasy
linking dreams
and gravity
like the soft, pink
umbilical cord' it conjours such beautiful immages.