I see them, as they were at seventeen:
Two, joined together, always, everywhere.
On school or church trips, sort of just one body,
If you saw her, you knew he would be there --
But like an illness, sometimes, love just passes,
The constant soon becomes a memory,
And "they" are long-forgotten, save at moments,
When I'm back here at home, and
She's with me
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Tagged: Tags Love Stories Poetry
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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