Once Love So Real, Now Mere Echo
Sullen gray-and-black leaden fingers
unclosing against vast sky, cause
the outside world seems to run
away in grim silence.
Once love so real,
now mere echo
in the weak
moonlight
rays
as
fragrant
gold flaming
honeysuckle
vines bound into a
braid around too narrow
garden bower. I sit on
a settee, in the pavilion,
my head down with cherishing sadness.
8/22/2019
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