Riches to rags.

Riches to rags.

A Poem by andrew mitchell

Riches to rags.
There was no going back,
only his pages dog-eared,
marked his youth
trapped in yesterday.
Slim was the chance
encountering romance;
all but whispers
a faded fairytale,
as he stood wilted,
an old dead rose. 

© 2016 andrew mitchell


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Added on November 21, 2016
Last Updated on November 21, 2016

Author

andrew mitchell
andrew mitchell

adelaide, Australia



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Strindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..

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