hendelar

sometimes you just gotta' row

then, it’s Friday

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it is the nature of seasons and bounty to fall
again, like dreams etched upon the gold-spoil of fools,
to aloneness, merciless, cold and hard, grasping
with long-fallen charm, to clouds of concrete grey,
an echo-less plea to unfathomed indifference

gratitude seeps tears for truth, vulgar and dear,
reaches prayer for exit before encore

wounds of ignorance, lies of love,
slash deeper, scar slowly, set unmended

sorrow bends less each moment passed, regret to
reachless empathy, the sweet rain of healing
seeds wisdom in sodden hues of memory,
cast its glance neither to soiled nor spent,
there, whence lay Love’s promise

glh

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Written by glh

November 17, 2010 at 03:41

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