The Lost Boy

The lost boy still stands
by the grass, in cold grey,
Looking beyond the banks.
Slowly forgetting dreams
that he found through love.

Back turned to the
river’s chill, cut by red bricks,
Silent faces pass him and stay
unfamiliar to his eyes,
As they search for what he knew.

Hours will scream and pass
with an unchanging world,
But he will be different.
Still trying to find the
times he forgets and lost.

The lost boy still stands
by the grass, in cold grey,
Looking beyond the banks.
Slowly forgetting dreams
that he found through love.

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