I Will Not Forget
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The moon vanished into a pale of russet
where humid air twirled along with clouds,
and stars burst…
flickering above hilltops
to cast my lament across the sky:
How wanton gulls crisscrossed on a flight;
their shrills rattling that my heart echoed
an image of first passion’s gaieties
outlined by his maze of treachery, of ruse
forgetting not my lesions from one August night,
when tears split forth in torment
without measure:
Naive at eighteen, I drank yesteryear’s pain
hoping fate could heal me from such drilling spin...
then to wake up fed with grace
upon new morn's behest.
~
John Hamilton's Your Best Poem 2020
Originally Written 5/13/2020
Resubmitted 5/22/2020
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2020
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