Image courtesy of Tom Franz from Wikimedia Commons
We once loved, and then that love left; and yet, the memory of that love is left.
Memory
You were once all to mebut now there is nothing
beside what’s been left,
a memory that’s bereft,
I could wish be gone,
but that is not allowed,
it is not mine to choose -
a memory I cannot lose.
© D G Moody 2022
Poetry by D G Moody
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Written on 2022-07-26 at 19:21
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