Saturday, April 7, 2012

Bless Her Leaving

so the future refuses
my guesthouse and my welcome
she's left because of refuse
she's become so slim and seldom

her promises bent
too thin to compete at loss
too often around the bend
unchosen at an open cross

out the door with a wisp
unable to compete with broken dreams
her memory now rarely whispers
my lost destiny's golden beams

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