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Loved and Lost
I look into your eyes and see
an olive grove in dusk.
A small child wishing to be free,
clothed in a woman’s musk.
I gaze upon your flaxen locks
and dream of wild brown wheat.
A land alive with soaring hawks,
cool touch on barest feet.
I long to kiss your gentle lips,
taste of nectar so sweet.
A secret well from which one dips
to refresh from defeat.
If I could hold your hand with mine
I’d gladly give my day.
To hear you say the world was fine
and that you wished to stay.

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But my world will take me soon
out of your arms and away.
And I can’t ask the sun or moon,
“What can I do to stay?”
I think of how our paths have crossed,
the Bard I now recall;
“Tis better to have loved and lost,
than never loved at all.” |
May 22, 1990