CRUMBS

In a caf� I�ve nothing left to say
My coffee finished
Crumbs of a bun sit on an empty plate.

As for my poetry
Waiting on fame that never came
Perhaps my thoughts have changed
My lifestyle has
But my name stands the same.

Where is the conviction
With which I threw myself into -
Alas, the flame is a flicker.

The crumbs are there no longer
To stare upon
A clean table now shines at me
With a sudden blindness.

Now I must go
Go where - I can�t tell,
I�d like to yell
But will go quietly
Never to be missed.

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