Mar. 1st, 2008

Our love was true, and true love is no crime.
Your memories and mine tell us no lies.
The spring and summer were a joyful time
of open arms and hearts and minds and eyes.
You took me as I was, imperfect, scarred,
and showed me love, and healed me with your touch
as I in turn healed you, though not so marred.
We grew and learned the world is not too much.
Then autumn came. I hurt you. Did you wrong
in parting as I did - you felt betrayed.
I knew that I could not to one belong.
I felt it would be worse if I had stayed.
Your poem, now, a precious gift indeed.
Forgiveness, growth, new love, are what we need.

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wot_i_wrote

April 2017

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