Your words now, mere whispers in the willows

The fragrance of yesterdays and long gones

Mingle with the sweet scent of the rose

Thorned in the regrets that I once believed


The voluptuous form memorized by lips

Fades to a world of shadows and lost thoughts

Now formless, an apparition of old desire

It does not appear in a life this bright


Your kiss, the once breath of life

Hangs stale on a palette more learned

Its warmth and fire frozen by time

And distance denies or defies the longing


Recycled memories that hold little

Even all the good has paled in absence

Maybe that was all we could hope for

A future fragile, faint, and forgotten


15 Responses to “Forgotten”
  1. beth says:

    it becomes an ethereal faded memory after a time

  2. kristianw84 says:

    You have such a beautiful way with words, my dear friend. That last stanza is pure gold. You always get me with your endings. ❤

    • Brad Osborne says:

      Maybe I should hodge-podge together a bunch of my poem endings and then it might be really good the whole way through….🤣 Thank for your kind words and constant support, dear Kristian!

      • kristianw84 says:

        For the record, I believe everything you write is gold. The entire poem is moving. However, very early in our friendship you told me that a good poem begins at the end. I have never forgotten that. I apply it to my own writing. I try very hard to leave my writers wanting more, or to circle back around to the beginning. Of course, some are better than others.

        Anyway, I know you were kidding, but you know me, I am going to gush over your poetry every chance I get!

      • Brad Osborne says:

        Yes, I was kidding and, yes, you will gush. We all must simply be who we are. Thank you, my friend! And I still believe a good poem starts at the end.

    • Brad Osborne says:

      Yes, Virginia, there are bear attacks in Yosemite National Park. 🤣🤣🤣

  3. Chel Owens says:

    Ethereal almosts.

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