Ashes
More silences than soft embraces,
now we're lost with little left to say;
what used to be the flame of love
has gone to ashes, pale and cold and gray.
Stilted words and courtesies
are all that seem to slip from our tired lips
as quick the fount of memory fades,
the dying ember flickers now and dips.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2015
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