An Old Fable From A Lost Soul

January 21, 2011
I remember 50 years ago,
The sun gleaming in her eyes,
Prior to things becoming slow,
Way before our relationships’ demise,

The memories seem so far away,
Living without regret,
Now dried out like old clay,
A replacement queen I have not met,

So I stay here alone,
Rocking back and forth in my chair,
Solid as old stone,
No one sees my pain—unaware,

The dust settles and I fade away,
Nothing but an old man with heartache and pain,
The memories will stay,
As the setting sun makes our eyes strain.

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