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A place for all my poetry, regardless of location in other areas of my portfolio |
| Sometimes I wander hallowed halls, And see the scratches made in walls-- Not the sort of place to play-- In childhood's glorious lost days. The screams are whispered in the air, And campfire's heat gives way to despair-- A lonely place to call my own-- Until my lost cat comes home. Still, tomorrow's page does turn, And with it my heart does yearn-- The cold front finally moved through-- Memories once more speak of you. Then I must return to today, As in tomorrow I cannot stay-- Yesterday's wind has died down, And turned my smile into a frown. Your faint meow can be heard, When I whisper that sacred word-- Once more today we shall meet-- And in my arms your soul to keep. |