Postscript
...inspired by 'Old Song' by Hart Crane
Your smile took issue with the sun,
a flash of purest fire;
it blinded me to look upon
you, radiant with desire!
Now you are lost to me I know,
and as I sleep I pray
the distant orb's less fiery glow
will keep you safe alway.
Your face will flicker to a haze,
a fading memory;
and I shall spend my waning days
adrift in misery.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016
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