Scented
Tears
And
Cast
Your
Mind
Back
Over
Years
To
Find
How
Each
Blind
Baseless
Fear
Squandered
Time
And
Chance,
Then
Dry
Your
Eyes
And
Savor
The
Romance
In
Song
And
Story
Of
Those
Who
Found
The
Key
To
Truly
Be.
Weep
Scented Tears And Cast Your Mind Back Over Years To Find How Each Blind Baseless Fear Squandered Time And Chance, Then Dry Your Eyes And Savor The Romance In Song And Story Of Those Who Found The Key To Truly Be.
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Yesterday
Or the day before We walked from the Metropolitan Talking about the show, Over to Madison Avenue Stopping at all the bookstores. You bought me those Slender books on art We made a collection of, Two rare ones, One Matisse, One Modigliani. And on down Madison Past the antique shops And the restaurants and That funny hardware store Which never had What we were looking for. And the stores full of gaud And the crowds pulsing And the traffic churning by, All the way to Thirty-Third Street. All the way holding hands, Only yesterday Or the day before? I only remember It was spring. The
Tilted Language Of Another Age Builds My Story Of Bygone Glory. People Love And Rage On Every Page And I know Them, Know Them Like No Others, What They Are And Mean, Although Two Centuries Lie Between Them And Me, Divided By Time’s Restless Sea. Dancing
Is An Ancient Way Of Romancing Without A Word To Say, A Sort Of Grown Up Play, Suitable For Any Day Or Night, By Sun Shine Or Star Light, In The Arm Of Him Who May Prove To Be The One You’ve Longed To See, Or A Stranger Who Will Become A Friend That Lasts Beyond The Music’s End. Sound
The Sacred Instruments Of Pipe And Drum, The Second Day Of May Has Come. Never Mind Winter’s Pain And Strife, The Land Has Sprung To Life And Lo, Despite Every Thing, It Is Once More Spring. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
March 2024
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