To You
17 September, 2003
Author: Pamela O'Brien
Photographs
Of all the good times passed
I am forced to remember how I thought it would last
But we fell to hard, too fast
Memories
Of all the sweet nothings
Whispered in the passion of those cool evenings
And how we would softly sing
Fantasy
Of how we might be
If we ran into each other spontaneously
And the blind could suddenly see
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Comments on this poem/writing:
ym (207.190.93.41) -- Friday, September 26 2003, 01:48 am I like how you put at the end, "Fantasy Of how we might be If we ran into each other spontaneously And the blind could suddenly see." It was a very good ending. I am wondering though, what you meant by those last few lines. Was it possibly that it would never happen? |
Pamela (66.38.146.173) -- Friday, September 26 2003, 02:54 am Well, it's a complicated story but let's just say you were almost right! It was a romance that happened, but he said he didn't feel the same about me as I did about him (love, in other words) so when I say those last lines, I am fantasizing about how it might be if we ran into each other again and he suddenly realized how great we were together and how much he felt for me. I am so happy that you asked because sometimes it is nice to explain something about a poem for a reader, even if they have their own interpretation :O) Thanks so much for reading and commenting, hope I made sense in telling you what I meant! |
ym (207.190.93.16) -- Thursday, October 30 2003, 04:57 am I'm sorry I never checked back on your comments. I was away for a couple of months and couldn't get on the comp. but that isn't important. Thank you so much for sharing your meaning of the poem with me. I know how that feels. That's what led me to this poem again. The title. And the possibility that it would be about exactly what it is. (love, in other words) |
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