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were love the same
as yesterday –
took you by surprise
a sideways glance
the consequence
of light
had not your heart been
propped against
the memory of dust
your lips with ache
for all I had
to say
a song
that has not played
but in your arms –
I remember well
the swell
of violins
. . .
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
Darn those violins! They give me away every time !!!!!!! ……………….xo