Her Chestnut Hair
Her chestnut hair, loosened, cascading endlessly,
gone.
Her never-tiring gaze searching the corners of my heart,
gone.
Her smile so radiant it outshone the sun,
gone.
Her words in which she reinvented the world,
no more.
Her beauty outlasted twenty summers and then was
gone.
I never saw them cut her locks,
never saw the light in her starved eyes pale,
never saw her smile retreat,
or heard her fall silent
as her body slowly froze
before they burned her, too,
upon some piled-up pyre.
For I stood by as the black car took her,
At a distance
Safe
Rooted
My love dismissed by egoism
Copyright © Paul James | Year Posted 2010
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