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For Kit.

Perhaps we lived a night and day away
and never knew the other one was breathing
and so we saw the sunrise stained with grey
but never fully realised we were grieving;
perhaps our eyes or bodies might have met
when on the Northern Line, or on a plane,
and left us cursed, unable to forget
and nursing till our death a treasured pain;
       perhaps you read my story in a book,
       how I'd been dust these seven hundred years,
       the dreams I'd dreamt of you, and how it took
       a dozen books to hope to reach your ears;
perhaps the Lord had mercy on us; hence
this coinciding's no coincidence.

◄ And yet you show surprise

Spanyel ►


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Yvonne Brunton

Fri 30th Mar 2012 01:14

Wistful emotion keenly portrayed. Nice one.

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John Coopey

Fri 30th Mar 2012 00:57

Nice love sonnet, TT.

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Marianne Louise Daniels

Wed 28th Mar 2012 11:59

Beautiful, particularly -
"the dreams I'd dreamt of you, and how it took
a dozen books to hope to reach your ears;"

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M.C. Newberry

Tue 27th Mar 2012 14:50

Imaginative - with an upbeat ending. Another welcome contribution from this writer who clearly relishes the use of words to paint a picture in our minds.

<Deleted User> (10123)

Tue 27th Mar 2012 13:00

The depth of loss for the seven hundred years comes shining through. And then the volta springs into possiblities, and a happy ending, Liked it, ta muchly Nick.

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