Decoupage
These days life is like a rock skipping across a pond.
Thrown by a lover who hopes somehow to entertain.
I remember her loving ways; sweeter than any name could ever describe;
And she was a keeper too soon lost; but always remembered.
And I want so much; to see that me;
That once reflected in her eyes
As I look into nights illuminations;
It seems that here, lost dreams must live
And time eventually became the enemy of love.
And yet in a secret place of my mind are memories;
Memories of yesterday’s that were once my new tomorrows.
Now lost and laying about in a field of broken dreams
And I loved her; but all those years of subterfuge;
So often called my lessons in life;
Are embedded into my heart as a constant reminder;
Of yet another chapter in my noted chronicles of regrets.
Always regretting what was left behind;
Never learning to be still; I am pasted pieces.
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