after William Butler Yeats
When you are sad and lost and full of pain,
and huddled in your bed, scroll through your phone,
and play a clip, and dream of the sweet song
your voice sang once, and of its sweet refrain;
How many loved your smart and measured style,
And loved your mind with a love wise or dumb,
But someone loved your clownish heart of fun,
and loved the strangeness of your honest smile.
And staring at the harsh and glowing screen,
Search, a little guilty, for the page
You know is locked, the past behind a cage,
and hidden by what's happened inbetween.
two thumbs way up
ReplyDeleteso good
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