Pale brow still hands

Pale brow
still hands
thin bloodless lips
she is an image fading
a memory lost
on the bitter edge
of a dream

Were I to peer
into her heart
I wonder now
what I would see
what of all the love
what of all the dust
we laid down

Where there was pulse
where there was breath
where our voices
once blended softly
there is silence and loss
endless separate
soulless silence

John Lyons


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