Death of a Dream

A pinnacle, this dream to taste the globe;
To savour, laugh and mingle, kiss and bow.
Unreachable, immortal it became,
A priceless hope beyond my grasp. But now –

A lesser peak I’ve scaled. I’ve found in touring,
Exotic flavours tend to common grey;
The globe to shrink. The revered dream is maimed.
Cathay and Rome are but a flight away.

Hollow

Echoes of a keening loon
Reverberate through emptiness.
Lost.

Tiny tendrils yanked and tangled.
Years of clinging, growing ivy
Dead.

Abysmal freefall, where certainty once
Stood solid and secure.
Hollow.