More Than Five

This is a poem I wrote a while ago and sent to an online poetry contest on a whim. A few weeks later I received a letter saying what a "great poem" it is and how they'd be happy to publish it and sell me an anthology for only 39.95. I hate these people. They suck and feed on the creative juices of writers desperate to have their voices heard. They could care less if my poem is excellent and they would lie to my face if it wasn't, as long as I sent them a check. I'd rather people read it for free.

"More Than Five"

I walk on a gray street
Peering between the slats of a rough-hewn fence.
I see a brighter world
Bathed in light.
It is as I thought it would be
When I was young-
Always dangling in my brain
Dancing when the music died
Seducing me to wistful sleep.
It is too forgotten- cast aside
Yet still it strives
Content to be alone.

I see a shape-
The figures (or things that would be figures
If I would but believe)
Beckon me to join them.
To climb, to dig, or simply break through-
But my vision is limited and the crowd
Lifting me up,
Carries me along.

Later that night, as I lay in bed,
I know that with a deep and sullen aching
That I would trade everything in my life
For a moment
When all my senses blazed.