Avia, a Memory
The darkened stair
The footsteps coming down
The hunger there
The dove sang and then flown
The sudden kiss
Of constant memory
The sweetly missed
The sad, sad history
Avia, I
See not why men should praise
The hope to die
And leave desolate days
Where the living
Webbed, a blind butterfly
Jn suffering
Can only wait, and think and cry.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
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