Once

I still miss her mystery, moments
when I'd wake beside her and 
nuzzle her nape, hear her 
breathing so softly, so sleek under 
satin that sculpted her beautiful shape. 

My days are now vacant, 
evenings are empty with no one to hold, 
to ponder and pattern ambitions 
together once shared,  
and now so far distant and cold.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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Bocsa Avatar
February 23, 2016 at 12:37 PM
A touching poem reminding of a great poet .I admire the tender embrace of sadness and solitude I also wrote about it by imagining Lotte at Weimer.
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