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Archive for November, 2013

O rest in peace – the poem is dead,
I doubt if ever it was born.
There is no light, there is no hope,
The ink has dried, and page is torn.

I wish I could have saved its life,
I wish I could have written more.
I wish I had not let it go,
I wish I had not closed the door.

It’s not the first, it’s not the last,
It happens every now and then.
The lifeless fingers cause to stop,
Then, no way can I move my pen.

But that one was close to my heart,
That one was which I love to be.
Ah, yet I had to do it, sad,
I killed it all; from A to Z.

The death of poem is death of mine,
But only if you ever care.
I may come back to life, but well,
It’s okay, I don’t ask for prayer.

(- Writer: Nay Af/Autumn Green)

sculpture_by_AnnG

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