Is that a frown upon arm that does
Bleed in bad humor from battles now past?
Why yes it is, for now I do espy
That you have more scars upon the thigh! Last
Time I met you in lovers throes we cried
Until our hearts were blind, toes were stepped on
So that our feet smarted from blows; let
Those memories be all in the throws, gone
By, as a summer gale that hinders lawns
From growing in the torrential downpour:
Only a memory that made them sore.
But now I see again that bleeding past;
I ask you once more how long do we last
If separated by the void made vast?
Return to Love, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012
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