Sunday, June 25, 2006

Past Life

It seems another life now,
The humid days
And torrid nights
Of her.
And still she haunts,
Hiding inside,
While I wonder
And wander
Into red hair wisps
Of the past,
Where her laughter lingers
And her tears stain
My sunken soul
On a black broken
Daily basis.
Ten years doesn’t
Do much to diminish
My love,
Nor the potency of
Swamp Ophelia’s waters,
Wrapped warmly round
Each time I drown,
In wondering, wandering,
And praying in vain
That someday
I’ll hold her again.

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