Monday, March 12, 2012

March 21, 2011: My Last March

I'm willing to forgive absurdities,
If you can see past mine.
I lost your love years ago.
Friendship faded with time.

I feel I still reach out to grab you,
Your fingers slip from my grasp.
Some hope or a song to remember,
Somehow seem so much to ask.

If you reached for my hand, I would take it,
Weaving our fingers, following beside.
But the weeds and thorns consume you.
And you are far too hidden in time.

I mourn to not have followed, though, I'm glad when I look back.
Because there was not a present in the past.

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