adventures in dysthymia

Sunday, March 26, 2017

We Say Nothing, a poem

We Say Nothing

Let me make mistakes with you,
leaving the regrets of tomorrow
to tomorrow. They will come.

To say nothing, beautifully,
says enough. The flame yet kisses
what we threw upon the hearth,

yet devours each hope. We only
mark our foreheads with the ashes
and go forth to sin no more.

We say nothing of tomorrow;
We say nothing, beautifully.

Stephen Brooke ©2017

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