Thursday 21 August 2008

Lost


Something is lost, a precious thing is lost,
and now I have a memory of the shining.
A precious thing is lost and glitters far;
gold will gleam, but only with refining.

Uncut diamonds rarely shine,
yet you now shine to me;
and though I have not discovered you,
you shine in memory.

5 comments:

Wait. What? said...

wonderful flow of words here - I like it!

Couture Carrie said...

I like it too!

Cathy said...

So close to making prose-like sense, then ...nothing. Don't like it.

RHYTHM AND RHYME said...

Good use of words, unlike last comment I like it very much.
Poetry is a personal thing what don't appeal to others appeal to many more. Thanks for sharing.

Yvonne.

jingle said...

awesome poem