His quotidian life goes to Agace
No one else can take her place
Whenever she walks fast past him
Demeanour makes him seem so dim.
Each night dashes every hope
But the morn does stir it up
The hopes to get her smile is dear
They work to make his life a cheer
If he sees hate in her lovely eyes
To him, the hate is nil but lies
He knows she’ll change someday
His zeal strengthens day after day
She hits with sighs and scowls
And his heart tens of howls
Everything within begins to slack
When her best life man comes back
Decades have come and gone
His life he still lives alone
He does forever chase the wind
None like him in her frozen mind
So he lives his life without a life
A loathsome place he can’t like
Holding life and all in it in scorn
Forever he’ll live his life to mourn
© Florence Ezekafor 2019
Well penned
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Thank you!
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I like the darkness of this poem. As someone that is dead inside, this was oddly satisfying. 😁
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Thank you! I’m glad you liked it.💖
(I appreciate your observation. Thanks, I’ll act on it right away).
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Wonderful !
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Thank you😀
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Thank you☺😀❤!
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…Now, that’s a terrible way to live. What is life without a purpose?
Beautifully composed!
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Thank you so much lbk😊
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