Words dissolve into the sea
as if nothing was said.
The ones that were spoken and said
are lost unless better men come along
with a history that isn’t banal.
Paper white filled with mistakes
fly and flutter like leaves off branches,
onto the rotting, unsettled floor.
Out of sight,
out of mind.
As if a street lamp whimpers its last breath
out in the dying rain.
Someday these lost words will resurface
in the souls of geniuses
to old to die.