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reclaimed

I must whisper carefully
else my brokenness belie –
my heart will not be silenced
by the murmur of goodbye

I miss your tender lines
your poems of the morrow
of truth – a balm forgotten
to the weeping sighs of sorrow

sweet prisoner remember
e’er november winds remain
with the telling of forever –
every season passed again

time may still this longing
of promise without measure
a moment so endearing –
so carefully I whisper

. . .