Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Monday, November 01, 2004

Time

A search for those few
hopeful words I remember,
before more time passes.
Before it was all taken
before my grasp

Some precious dream
never realized
but one that was so
very close, in waves
returning so suddenly
painful... why now?

Memory of words,
want of your touch,
taste of your tongue,
comfort of your arms
never opened to receive.

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