Still Life
"Come to me in my dreams,''a forelorn poet once wrote.
But did he know the pain that brings
from a love that has been smote?
Reflections of the past seen in the dark
Remembered by day in twinges of the heart.
''Stray from my mind in the night,''
A love-worn poet writes.
And yes he knows by his own right
that a new love may soon be shown.
Redemption in a time wronged of life,
remembrance of how Time is a razor-edged knife.
B Heath Harris/(c) 2009
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