In case you missed it
when we spoke,
I miss you more each day.
Yet, as I hear you
park the car,
I consider running away.
The you that I now know,
isn’t the you of long ago.
Midday naps
on my parents’ couch.
Long gone walks through the park.
Skipping class
to go to the fair,
Who knew life wasn’t a lark?
The you that I now know,
isn’t the you of long ago.
Who knows when
I became so blue;
Could’ve been our first row.
The comments couched
in hurtful words,
Remembered blow by blow.
The me that you now hear,
isn’t the me you once held dear.
So all is fair
in love and war.
But where did I go wrong?
I search the sky,
the bluest of blue,
it’s found in a lark’s song.
The me that you now hear,
isn’t the me you once held dear.
The me that you now hear,
is not consumed with utter fear.
The time is almost here
and my escape is growing near.
April 8th
Prompt: Write a Homograph Poem
Tori Dreamer 