The Elm 2016-2017 2017 The Elm Literary Magazine | Página 22

STYX
by Josh Hall
His eyes met my own --
vile, noxious pits
as deep as the Styx.
Specks of gray orbited upon their surface --
forgotten artifacts; damned hopes
from a different eon.
Hallowed pupils carried abandoned dreams,
taken by the fingers of time
from the grasp of naïvety.
His desolate heart sought my imagination,
hungering for the hope
that he lacked,
But I was never a dreamer,
too focused on other burdens
to fly.
I had no wings for him to take.
don’t let go
Anna Raccuglia
9th Grade
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