a lone novel &
a deserted - but lovely - field of wildflowers
the pages of the past are old and worn
watermarked with silent tears
endless chapters suggest
immeasurable years - reaching back through time's loosened grip
an eternity of missed chances and opportunities lost
timing was never on our side
but now we're coming to the end
the final few pages are yet to be written
my hand is shaking
lets dream some more
1 comment:
love.
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