Tuesday, November 02, 2004



not one of them
very good, but together...
ah, together they piled
onto me, pinned me down
until you passed
beyond my reach.

I loved you, I think,

I loved you but pride
and misunderstanding
took me by the arms,
led me away, saying,
'Look elsewhere. She doesn't
care.' Maybe I believed;

does it matter, now?

The night has grow still;
once I dreamed of you
beside me, of kissing
your ivory shoulder
by the light of a moon
that will never rise


Stephen Brooke ©2004

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