Saturday, April 6, 2019

Old Valentine

The little lights are burnt out
But the sun shines into a few of them
An old celebration
Her morning dose of love was enough
To carry her till the next morning
Or else she was moaning all day
So he took an axe to the day
To the very roots of the day
A vine that would only grow more days
Some ancestral tangle
That covered the trellis
In a single bound
He tore it all down
The burnt lights of the leaves
In which the sun did sparkle

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