Sunday, February 22, 2009

Old Friend

Was it the brine of loneliness that shrunk you like this? I can no longer believe, my yellow butterfly that you’ve grown old,
Better looking may be, but I can see age-lines across your heart,
In every word you utter with much effort and pain,

In a flash I remember that ring I wore for years,
Waiting some day that you will bring me another,
I want to laugh aloud, no tears gather,
All tears and more tears I shed night and day,
May be more than you deserve,
I know where that ring lies, must be buried by sand,
For it was thrown into the mud angrily,

Yet it breaks me a little to see this old pickle,
Silent, mellowed who delighted in songs
That taught me the music of joys. 

I wonder whether you remember the walks in the rain
Or the fights everyday or any day that ring,
That lies buried in the mud, in the rain. 

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