As a poet put it: memories, like water passing over ones hand.
(Image by Tom Franz, from Wikimedia Commons)
Love Lost
You were once all to mebut now there is nothing
beside what’s been left,
a memory that’s bereft;
that I could wish be gone,
but that is not allowed,
it’s not for me to choose -
a memory I cannot lose.
© D G Moody 2023
Poetry by D G Moody
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Written on 2023-01-10 at 16:53
Tags Memory 
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