No escaping them and
they are blessed by
origins survival true
A fleeting glance cannot
allay devotion beaming
through reminding me
There is a life they say
in tones and colours
of the palest shades
And these mementos
blaze above the pyres
of love’s mislaid lament
Your sentence is to die
a thousand deaths with
each enamoured glance
I cannot look and try to
turn away – nothing left
but pungent memories
© 23 October 2009, I. D. Carswell
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