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I Could Not

by m. speaker


Would you meet me, love?


I should not, beloved,

I do not think


In the house, the on up North.

With the music,

The songs were meant to share,

as you planned; they still are,

You need only to

Come and hear.


The strings of my lyre

have long since frayed

Only you practiced with me, I cannot bear

To share them anymore. That house cannot

Hold any music for me.


And with the river,

the stepping stones,

Certainly, they are

smoothed by now,

The river could only help,

You planned our hikes

On the other side


They give too much

What the river loves to run over,

The rocks could only

help to give.

I do not think the

river cares to soothe

their excess


Your books are still

across from mine.

My writings are still

open on your desk,

Yours on mine.

You could write more.

I could read it.


The sun has stolen

my scribblings away.

I have not needed

them since I wrote them;

you have not needed

Me to write more since.

The writing must be

long faded. Your absence

or the un's mercy

Have certainly

stolen them away.


My watch is broken;

I do not know by

how much you are getting older.

I cannot say

how long it has been.


I know, you.

I know we are out of time.


My watch is broken;

I do not know by

how much you are getting older.

I cannot say

how long it has been.


I know, you.

I know we are out of time.


Would you meet me?


I could not.


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Image by Bree Anne
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