day's end brings with it a silence
that most nights remains broken
only by words much like poetry
and thought.
into that lull I draw forth tableaux
of times perhaps best left adrift
on the troubled waters of auld
lang syne.
how viciously wounding though,
the refusal of recollection, for at least
in memory I can cherish you as once
I did.
and the inquietude of vast longing,
frustration at time's lethargic pace,
knows the kindest, though briefest,
of stays.
that most nights remains broken
only by words much like poetry
and thought.
into that lull I draw forth tableaux
of times perhaps best left adrift
on the troubled waters of auld
lang syne.
how viciously wounding though,
the refusal of recollection, for at least
in memory I can cherish you as once
I did.
and the inquietude of vast longing,
frustration at time's lethargic pace,
knows the kindest, though briefest,
of stays.
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