Wounded Dreams
Was it so long ago your touch felt.
Fingers gently your hair once held
Yet far from you I knelt, cursed;
standing in this melted sand.
No one to hear my scream.
Just a memory left, unfeeling
be there no understanding.
Nor mercy of memory held;
still I wonder will that which was mine
shall remember the touch felt
© 2011 Words the Windows to the Soul
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ReplyDeleteMark
ReplyDeleteI have done what your say and reread it, with your eye, you see much of what other dont, it is there in your words,your blog has the right name "Words the Windows to the Soul" so true
Sue
... thank you, Mark ... for reading my words and pictures so well ... thank you for your words ... Shalom.
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