Poem: Old pain

By: Edward J. DeSilva, Jr


is different than new.

It grows more complex –
richer – with the passing
of time, like

the taste of old scotch.
It lingers on the tongue
and in the memory. Or

the smell of a well-aged cigar.
It hangs in the air, sticks
to the clothes and clings

to the hand that held
it. We held each other
too briefly.

I’ve had a lifetime
to savor the loss of you.

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as: ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.