ThirtyEight

I would like to see

The year 1998

From where I am now

Guest Check Poetry: 233679

His face grew cold, his bones were old.

His story was timeless, it deserved to be told.

Sit with him, pray to God – “Wait.

Let him gather his memories, from each a lesson can be made.”

Say “Goodbye” – for a first, for a last,

Try and blame time, who took a hero too fast.

Laying outside, in the light of the moon.

I still see him in starts that explode too soon.

Definition of “Dismayed”

Tanka: 4: Scibbled Out

Gracious glory.

My story,

My story.

(forgetting loves)

Forgotten lies.

I’m sorry,

I’m sorry.