Stories of love told in a background voice,
innocence waits discreetly, hands folded.
Panic hisses at solace “your money or your life”.
Confusion, at the table, ate its fill and left no tip.
Understanding, unable to attend, sends regrets:
guilt as usual overplays its hand.
Contentment, thin and weak, barely makes it through the door,
Satisfaction appears, as always, only partly realized.
Resentment, in its cheap suit, wastes no time saining memories.
Truth, always elusive, sits quietly in a corner
while Enlightenment remains cleverly concealed,
and recognition enters only in fits and starts.
Belief crosses the threshold empty handed.
Uninspired troubadour provides entertainment.
Defender of requiem concedes defeat.
Another cynic mulls the lifespan of love.
Confidence waits in vain for an opening.
Determination falters, cannot decide.
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Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: February 28th, 2026 22:46
- Comment from author about the poem: Not much output these days, ideas come harder and slower. Oh well, I'm glad I'm old.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
The lifespan of this love spans even over sparse days and dwindled ideas. Beautiful, Dan 🙏🏻🕊️
This comes as passing thoughts through the mind of an aging individual, I recognize it in myself. Such drifting images decorate the years. Nicely done Dan
My friend, this is a powerful lineup of human traits all jostling for space. “Guilt as usual overplays its hand” and “Confusion…left no tip” land with quiet sting. It feels crowded, reflective, and honest…like watching the psyche perform itself. Beautifully crafted, my friend.. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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