Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Old Flame's

When reading your fair words I hardly looked up,
For I dreamed I myself was in your dream wound up.
Yet now I look above the reaches of paper worn,
My heart is set ablaze with anger and is torn.
Seeing the tree's and the thicket wherein I am set,
Have brought me back to the past where we met.
There I see you're lovely ghost as from afar,
By a dream wherein you stand in a topless car.
But as you drive down the road the vision fades,
And I am left with thickets, bush, a torn pages.
So now I look about me and cherish memories sweet,
For tomorrow I will carry them about as finest wheat.
Thus as I walk by the path we once trod so well,
I remember your glance, your face, and your tell.
Still I am not sure that these rhymes fully
Give over the meaning; this fond pulley
Does seek to speak in moments so brief!
So from a tree does the leaf fall down,
And so does my memory upon the ground.
Trodden paths now worn with tears and care, where
Each path is a clear rhyme now sung at dark,
By which I may remember the fair ark
Under which we shared the song of the larks.
And we sung them often, well worn harkens
Of songs that we cherished, so close to mark
Do larks sing at night of their fair love's bliss.
So now I speak of what I do surely miss.
My love in fair twilight, well trodden kiss. 

                                                                       Old Flame's, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

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