deepundergroundpoetry.com
Light
The mist this morn
is full of silvered sun.
The sight of it calls up
a memory
of how I wept when I was young
and torn in two by love
at being overcome
by all the light
that shone around her form
and face.
as she waved her last goodbye
to me,
beginning then
another of
the many body shudder losses fate
would gather from below, above,
into my life.
is full of silvered sun.
The sight of it calls up
a memory
of how I wept when I was young
and torn in two by love
at being overcome
by all the light
that shone around her form
and face.
as she waved her last goodbye
to me,
beginning then
another of
the many body shudder losses fate
would gather from below, above,
into my life.
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