In response to Langston Hughes “Harlem”

Strange enough I find myself thinking of you.

Sitting here reminiscing about our forgotten fruit.

The hopes and dreams we had in hopes of a life together.

 

Predicting we could withstand any storm together.

I take your hands into mine to feel your energy.

Moments I imagine that never happen.

 

In reality, you are there and I am here.

Missing the link to a chain, wondering what will remain?

How do I ease the loneliness only you can fill?

 

Words spoken but no longer heard, a touch no longer felt, and a presence no longer seen.

Am I now a memory of a forgotten dream?

I feel depleted in this dedication to a deferred dream.