Longing for Lost

Among the bare trees and ridges
in the last days of the year, 
I tried to get lost. It was nearly dark, 
evening clouds covered the mountain, 
covered me, pulling deeper down 
past mossy fallen oaks and the stream 
that sang of never returning. 
I followed as each path faded, 
until there was none, and no me, 
just blueness and quiet, and I secretly 
hoped no voices would find me to call 
me back.Β  Late, in the dark and cold, 
there were voices that haunted me 
back, and I shuffled return steps 
with my head down, through the darkness. 
I still long for lost. 

15 thoughts on “Longing for Lost

  1. Beautiful thoughts of velveted longings, nesting themselves deep into protective shades, where lostness is to be desired against the sometimes too crowded foundness…
    Will be following:-)

  2. haunting quality here, recognise the feeling but couldn’t get so clse to putting it into words!
    Love the line “..stream that sang of never returning ..”
    But, selfishly … glad you’re still here.

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