18 March 2011

Timeless passion seeks its Source
To fuel the drive and plot its course
And so she hung on every word
Amusing, silly little bird.

A lot of words he strung together
Like pearls upon a thread
She fell for every one of them and
Filled her pretty little head.

Bereft in her own Undoing
In her Truth, she stood alone
His words, just words, meanderings
Became her sticks and stones.

Every poet needs romance
If even in her own head but
Honeyed words that passed between
Were better left unsaid.

For she held her heart out to him
Advances politely declined
Now leave her quietly wondering
Had it all been a trick of the mind?

(c) 2011

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