Posted in Lento




Stumbled through the daily fog.
Fumbled dreams have run their course.
Tumbled down a muddy bog,
crumbled by a callous force.

Feeling pain in every heartstring,
empty vows mean not a thing.
Reeling, words intent to sting
tempt me far from where I cling.

Holding on has lost its pleasure.
Moulding me to your designs,
scolding me as tarnished treasure,
folding me in crooked vines.

Powers I chose to neglect
touch the disappearing bliss.
Hours pass as I reflect.
Much has changed since our first kiss.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written for the 1/29/14 Creative BloomingsInform Poets” prompt to write a poem in the Lento style.  More information about Lento poetry can be found at Shadow Poetry.

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