To tell the story of a life Takes many pages, many words; To tell the story of a love Takes every bit as long The you I saw in summer fields Beneath an endless weightless sky The you I felt in tenderness The softness of your skin, a sigh For now, when I remember you …
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A boy of seven, equal parts confidence and unsureness, walking behind his siblings and his parents, headed towards a cemetery. And the world is alive with green and his brother and sister alive with rancor, but his parents seem to be some other place, some place much grayer, like a hospital room, with their quiet …
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She felt the river take her back To when her days were young: When lights along the fireplace And Christmas tree were hung When somehow tears began to flow From secret, aching wells: The promised magic she once knew In harmony And bells
Time, they say, heals wounds. I haven’t found that to be so — For through lost fields of yesterday My heart will ever go Love, I hear, takes time. Well, time’s the one thing that I lack – Yet to lost fields of yesterday My heart keeps going back I let it all just wander …
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I drove by this restaurant back in 2014 and wrote the poem then.
This isn’t my neighborhood anymore; This isn’t the place where I start each day – Habitual turn to come up this street I lost awhile back when we moved away But we raised our kids in a house back there, And what seemed important then now seems small: The hopes that we had, and the …
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revisiting where i grew up, i walk along a starry beach: the gulf is gentle, welcoming, the moon seems within reach -- but childhood is not, i fear. so often, we remember the way things felt, not how they were. and so, this is blue december i will recall the world that was, and note, …
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.. there's a story in how they're looking ...
"Come now, you owe me one."