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Just as sure as the days and nights pass

Memories consumes my mind

Giving me chills thinking

Of the things that could be

That is for that matter

What is to become of me

A broken vessel

Depending on memories

To keep alive

What the sun once illuminated

What the moon once majestically gleamed

What time has created

What love has depicted

Shadows are all that is left

And memories

Becoming more and more

Each day I long

For the beauty of my precious flower

Where does my flower grow now

I yearn for the day to find

My flower once again in all her glory

Yesterday…

Today…

Tomorrow…

Will never be the same

Without my precious flower



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Everything I do, I do with passion. Come join me and see what I can do with words!


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The following comments are for "MY MAY FLOWER"
by DBurke

Reminds me of Wordsworth 'Intimations of Immortality
Ah memories...a wonderful thing to have in one's old age...sometimes re-worked to reflect what could have been...not what really was!

I love Wordsworth's reflections on the past in his ode "Intimations on Immortality": "Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendour in the grass, we will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind" etc.

Good job Demetria. Wordsworth would be proud!

Bea

( Posted by: Beatrice Boyle [Member] On: March 4, 2010 )





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