No images

Im sorry my imagination is miserable
You do look like golden stars
At what seems to be a mystery-
Black opium sky.
(You do seem important)
Im sorry my imagination is poor
I wish I could trust a meagre sight
Of bilions of galaxies
Being polite.
Life has taught me
A very valuable lesson
Not to imagin anything
If I want to stay valueble for life.

You are a body of wonders
Wider than space,
Going deeper than a ray of sun.
I cant know you.
My imagination is so scanty
I cant think of literary images
In this poem of almost love
Of almost sorrow in my window
To write upon.
And so I dont.

Too many past me.
Too many past me.
Too many past me.
They left, and now im familiar.