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Monday 5 February 2018

BBB Poem 86

I have been unable
To cure myself
Of this long held obsession

I have tried, believe me
Yet every time I throw
Another stone into the water

I smile to myself, politely
I watch the ripples
Dappled and stippled with light

In the deep of night
Her memory is falling
From the moon and stars

As I lay in my bed
I spin the words to thread
The lost love which is calling

Without pad or pen or pencil
I repeat the words
Hoping that my sleep

Will not take them away
But of course it does
So frail is my obsessed mind


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