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Torch

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If you find me walking
Along some lonesome railroad siding
Or see me sitting
Quiet on my porch
Don't let my numb indifference
Disguise what I'm hiding
I'm still here e
Holding up that torch

The passions that once burned
Have long since subsided
Their fragments lie here
Tattered, torn, scorched
Love's lost hope, however unrequited
Keeps me standing here
Holding up that torch
However so unwelcome 
However uninvited
I can't help but stand here
Holding up that torch

Comments (4)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Interesting piece. I enjoyed the imagery of "Quiet on a porch." Porches seem to have a hopeful essence about them don't you think?

a
This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Thanks. Yes, a porch is place of refuge, one that lies at the threshold of idenitiy and anonimity. And it was only one of two words that rhymed with "torch." Doubly fortuitous.

ugwerks
This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

I enjoy the comparison of fire to just about anything as long as it's done well. I liked this.

Neilisgood
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Thanks

ugwerks
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