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By jwb71913 Date: 2003 Apr 27 Comment on this Work [[2003.04.27.05.11.22331]] |
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A film of dust obscures the light Of this little pretty stone so bright I pulled it out to sell today Then put it back, what's to say? It isn't here for you to take It's here to pierce me like a stake To remind my of my foolish choice The day I last heard your sweet voice Still dusty back in box it goes To sit beside the dried red rose And other pieces of the past Ghosts of loves that didn't last Some days I wish my memory Was short, that I'd no longer see The ghost of your sweet presence here The light you brought when you were near But I am cursed with problematic Flashbacks almost cinematic When I touch these ancient relics Theatre opens, projector clicks Film at eleven |