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Fair

I comb my hair in the chilly air,
and I curse the moon, 
and I curse them skies
that t'is not fair
That our paths do not meet 
that I was left astray,
That thy love for I 
turned cold with the days.

I tie my hair in the chilly air,
and I curse the sun, 
and I curse them skies
that t'is not fair
That thee walked away,
that I was left with no word,
That thy love for I
flew away with the birds.

Date: 01.12.2019
For Contest: "Your Best New Poem",
Sponsor: Emile Pinet

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 12/3/2019 11:09:00 AM
turned cold... so true... there is love, or at least it feels that way... then cold... why... so sad... lovely poem. So well written. Ann
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Georgieva Avatar
Victoria Georgieva
Date: 12/3/2019 11:13:00 AM
Thank you, dear Ann! I am happy you like it!:)