It seems reasonable
to judge this disconsolate city
by the miles of broken pavement
and the avenues void of smiles.
The way I pace these rainy streets,
it's undeniable my heart is in defeat
as I grow silent as a library
or a funeral parlor.
Once, I blushed beside flowers
as she removed her hat and gloves,
I was innocent with my desire
to touch her shoulders and fall in love.
I sought her happiness
more than I ever sought my own;
I wanted to be an honorable man
and only kiss her in daylight rooms
until she trusted my intentions.
As the years slip into a coarser age,
I must conclude, she's married now to another
and all the tattered pages of my poetry
are the vanity of a purposeless life.
Uriah Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/1-vanity/
