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Imprisoned by the way things are, Breakfast, coffee and cream, Eggs with toast Sometimes it’s burnt, branded By the decades old toaster – former things, We can’t replace, Because this one is a memory bearer, Possessing days gone now, Days before his heart ached, before Memories were all he held, All that he has left of the girl… She’s still dancing, swaying like the wind, Songbirds shadowing her beauty, her light, … it’s not anything like it was then, Still, that old toaster, like its companions – The old dishes, the old promises, the old wars, Raging inside where he might know, But refuses to admit… they’re still here, Still with him, though she’s been gone, Almost thirty years – the time has flown… She can’t come home, even though home is haunted, By her energy, - she rambles quietly, Pacing through his dreams, erasing the possibility of joy, In the present, where he refuses to know – She is gone and she is never coming back home, Where her life colored the moments in gentle feelings, Assurances that yesterday is more than believing. Yesterday is like a teardrop glistening, from the soul, A memory, fleeting yet ever alive – like her voice, He hears her in the curls of color fading beyond the oaks, Leaving silhouettes of kindness, flowing, Caressing his hopes with grace that sings, stirring him, To never let go of what might have been… If she hadn’t gone before him, leaving a trail, Footprints entrenched in every heartbeat, Each breath exposing the secret she left with him… Even in death, she is life for him. Even in death, she still sings her refrain, The lingering of a love that never quite moves on, Love that never lets him neglect the wonder of her, As she fades into the eternal – she will never quit… Bringing his heart the rhythm so surreal, The music, her breath – the love, her legacy, Left to him, until they meet again – My heart!, how he longs to see her again!
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