There is nothing to be said, and little can be done
to change what is and what has been and what we have become.
Hopes and dreams get tangled in a web of make-believe
ever closer to a place where we cannot retrieve.
Did we ever have a chance? How would we even know?
Your meager trail of breadcrumbs is now buried in the snow
And all that was, and all that is, and all that’s meant to be
fade now with morning light into obscurity.
© Ginny Brannan 2023
Image: C. Parant Appetite for Photos.blogspot.com
Used with expressed written permission.
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.