Thursday, 7 June 2012

Poetry 11/12/2009

I kissed her in my youth,
in love of her ponytails bound,
and we marched to the playground,
But I never saw her again,
no, never awhile again...
And a while, a while again,
we see love's faint flowing mane,
in the thickets and brambles,
by the old roads, and rose bush,
When the clock seemed like it had endless time,
When endless time, defined your youth,
Which came and went again,
When you were old, and in love,
and in love, then became old,
so that love's pains were told...
When family forgot,
and forgetfulness became of your family,
The empty roads led to a sign -
and the sign led to a person,
But the person led to nothing -
In circles you walked,
and in walking, Death talked:
'tell your mother not to worry,
In your death shall she remember,
that you held her,
Like the paintings of Angel and Man,
before I came with my marching Band'


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