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Thursday
June 20, 2013
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by Snder
Rated: ASR | Poetry | Dark | #1881570
A woman talks of her past that she wishes she could change... But its too late ...
The beauties of the past call back to me
As I try to remember them no more
You asked me to return standing right there

Where now lie the remains
Of a withered willow tree

You are no more and so is my soul
Which you ripped apart and took away
So long ago,
You are that wind which I seek
But shall not find ever , never

You were like the desert sand
That slipped through my hands
And before I could close my fist
You were gone, Too soon Too fast
And all before the pain was over
It started again,

You have faded from my mind
But in my heart you do reside
As a beauty of the past
Whose call I denied .....



© Copyright 2012 Snder (UN: sheetal257 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Snder has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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