Sunday, August 24, 2014


I do not think of you so very much.
And that is odd-I was so sure I'd miss
Your tall, clean strength, and gay eyes, laughter filled,
Your arms, close holding, and your eager kiss.
I do not want you as I thought I would.
The curtain dropped so softly on the play
That I forget unless I tell myself
That we are through-and you have gone away.
But now and then in some familiar place,
Or when someone says small words strangely dear
Because of you, I sense a sudden hurt,
And for a minute want you- want you near.


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