Wednesday, November 12, 2025

A Rosy Lens

Things that used to mean a lot

Don’t mean as much today,

Yet missing them can still feel sad,

No matter what they say.

 

In memory, there’s laughter

And there’s comfort, which surrounds

Friends and family partaking

In the foodstuff that abounds.

 

In reality, that picture’s

Filtered through a rosy lens,

But the past still seems inviting

When comparing now and thens.

 

As the world pulls taut around me,

I seek solace in the thought

That most often, all the yearning

Won’t reveal that which was sought.

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