She was his love, behind the fence,
but he was loth to show it;
She was his only, long, true, love --
but didn't know it.
He built them castles made of ice,
to float with weightlessness;
His every thought, of her, while she
could not care less.
Behind the fence was where she stayed,
while he grew old with waiting --
A love made up of naught, but one
anticipating
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Tagged: Tags Love Stories Poetry Unrequited Love
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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