Hey! I was wondering if there were any other writers here on TC. You can be a writer of anything (poetry, songs, books). You can share your work if you want too. This is a poem I wrote yesterday called Walden Reflection.

I watch the wind send ripples across the pond.
The tears hit the desk as I try to find a way- to respond.

No more are letters and love exchanged.
You are now the taste of my sweetest bane.
Your feelings changed,
Leaving me here broken and estranged.
My heart’s been discarded, stretched thin,
Like the shedding of a snake’s skin.
It’s late July, but feels like the middle of winter.
When you said, “I love you,” I guess now you meant her.

Home? Where is home?
Your companionship is all I have ever known.
I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning again, from scratch.
But how am I going to un-light this burning match?
I can’t make it rain,
Like how I couldn’t make you stay.
Darling, we’re at spindle’s end,
And I just want to be at that first thread again.

I look out my cabin window.
Where did the time go?
As I spill this heartbroken ink,
I am left to think.
Only yesterday it seemed to be the first of June.
We were caught up in the beauty of our lovestruck youth.
And we were writing our hearts out,
Two raindrops running into one, but what am I talking about?

It must be you, love-
Setting a fire in my heart and a storm in soul. Enough.
That’s what they all said, back then.
Don’t chase the wind.
Didn’t you do the math?
You can’t hold him back;
He’s a stallion that’s got to run and you’ll only feel his delicious sting.
But every heart plucks their own string.

-Never mind.
You chose to leave me behind.
If this is what you want, well then,
My darling, my love, my friend,
You have to travel light.
I can get used to cold nights.
I have to let you go,
Like a tree’s changed leaves, before the first snow.

I’ll let you go,
Since you have another hand to hold.
And you should know,
That as I throw away your promised stone,
I still remember when we splashed around in the cold creek,
In our cutoff jeans.
The sunlight shined through the trees.
Breathe.

That’s an easy thing to do,
But I’ll need to get the manual, now that I’m without you.
There’s a beauty in simplicity, I was told.
Well, I’ll remember that as I sell this fool’s gold.
I get up from this creaky chair, tripping, probably bruising my knees.
But that’s life, sadly.
Our love was real, till you decided you wanted another’s hand.
The seasons, the sky, us, I wonder if it was all planned...

The fire’s died, leaving only embers.
I toss your notes in and let them burn, cooling me into December.
If kisses were wishes, I would need only one kiss:
That every once and a while, you would fondly reminisce.
“Let him step to the music he hears,” Thoreau wrote.
So, I’ll keep your ghost.
I hope you’re happy out there,
That your memories of me don’t evaporate into the air.
And I hope those memories are like waking up to a Christmas covered in snow.
-I hear thunder outside the window.

I watch the wind send ripples across the pond.




I take pictures and write, especially poetry. Check out my website to see it all! http://drimages.com/taylor_travels