Paramour
bitter pages, brittle as they turn
my fingers traced these lines before
or were they yours
cursive notes penned, nestled in the margin
scrawled hurriedly first in candle light dim
scratched through then at the looming dawn
here is the passage trapped in a bracket
to signify it your best-loved
Carolingian proverbs of affection and death
mastered in memory to the last, flawless word
only once to impart at dinner
Copyright © Greg Easley | Year Posted 2006
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