Lost To The Wind



/ poetry

A poem about aspirations and intentions

Lost to the Wind


So close tonight, the moon.

I could breathe it in,

swallow it, and with it

all those false promises.


Youth hangs a line,

attaches dreams

and sees them dangle

like paper tails on kites.


So close tonight. The moon

lights tattered dreams;

lets you count how many

were lost to the wind.




Tony Noon


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