So many things are held in mind.
Thoughts that stay inside,
hidden or lost in time,
which I can’t bind.
Wrinkling and Old,
like an old man
waiting to be erased
by the worker of time.
Endless as the running air,
they come, but they don’t go.
Replaced they are not,
just forgotten and bold,
they stay inside.
Lost with no reason to be embraced,
dashed and put aside,
together with the forgotten rest.
Yet in the accumulation they can’t find a pair,
so, alone they roll like old and empty cans.
Forgotten thoughts with no gold,
which forgotten, are not
just hidden deep inside.
Punished by time,
with the fact of never having the chance to go,
and with lost hope inside they rest
till time is erased,
and they are free to go.
By Jan M. Ramos
September 30, 2009

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