Like the old abandoned house, once a home
Forgotten in layers of memory,
Like the cold epitaph on a tombstone
Grinding on the senses like emery,
Like the tears from a bitter reverie
Soaking up a tired old afflicted soul,
Like a faded photograph of a babe
Tucked away deep in a mother’s heartfold,
Like the page in a life that someone stole
On a stained deathbed, one heartfelt longing,
Like a sculpture, yet to be sculpted whole
And the songless, ceaseless days of mourning,
You came to me, uninvited and lo!
Plunged me deep in interminable woe!
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