Nothing's Never Lost Poem by Kathlene Ann

Her footsteps walked the path alone,
Upon the gilded cobblestone
That shone, unlike a royal throne,
In tones of quiet gray that moan
Beneath the feet of one alone.

She felt an emptiness inside
Akin to that which one would hide
When drained and looking glassy-eyed
Despues de having cried and cried
‘Till left with nothing left inside.

She wanted something she knew of.
But what’d she really know of love?
It seemed a gift sent from above.
Her heart gave her a needy shove
To find the love it oft dreamed of.

And then, one day, a path crossed hers,
A path devoid of lonesome blurs.
It wound through leafy, life-filled firs
With sun and smiling grass-gophers.
It was a path so unlike hers.

And with it came an unknown man—
Not mighty tall, not mighty tan.
She saw him in a second’s span,
Then down his road she quickly ran
To catch this unknown, dorky man.

Straight off she felt a strong, strange rush
That seemed more special than a crush.
Her lips were froze. Her face did blush.
That hiding dove she’d hoped to flush
Had just filled her with love’s sweet rush.

At last the music all made sense.
She listened (at her own expense)
To words that now seemed so intense.
With him they did not seem nonsense
Since love, at last, seemed to make sense.

But past the joyful butterflies,
Beyond the many happy sighs,
Beyond his breathtaking brown eyes,
Despite her heart-rate’s constant rise
And ardent stomach-butterflies,

A sadness stole into her soul,
Depression she could not control.
Could this emotion be the toll
She paid for liking so her stroll
Beside the man who shared her soul?

Unsure, she drew, at last, away
To find that she was not ok.
She found her sadness did outweigh
The fleeting joy that would not stay
And always flew so far away.

She stepped from him and found her sight
No longer blurred by his bright light.
She realized he could not ignite
Her passions more than any night
Of black-darkness devoid of sight;

Although affection, love and care—
Even concern—were painted there,
His face, which did a soft smile wear,
No longer stirred, with its warm stare,
Affection, love, concern or care.

She found she felt nothing for him.
She watched him go and waved her limb.
She waved goodbye. Tears did not rim
Her eyes, in which he once did swim.
She stood and waved “so long” to him.

Her footsteps walk the path alone,
Again upon the cobbled stone.
Her love, you ask? That she has thrown
Away to rot where roaches moan
Again she’s nothing; ‘gain she’s alone.