Captive, a poem by Fotoula Reynolds at



written by: Fotoula Reynolds


She died 18 Thursdays ago
And yes, I’m captive to the count
We were cappuccino and latte
Hot chips and poetry

Many knew of her
Some may have met her
Others hoped to
I was her friend

Quiet, unobtrusive and soulful
It still feels disrespectful
In moments when I laugh
And she is not here

In all the days of soundless beats
Beats that she ran out of
I fall right there
In time and place

In the hidden life of trees
Resurrections of truths
Fall to ground like seedlings
Planted, painful prayers

At this late stage still seeking
Not in verse but here in green
The drifting past we share
Wilds, fuels and stays until it fades

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