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Old Flame

There are no embers

Only ashes

Lying cold

And void of hope

 

No matter now

How hard we try

The spark has gone

Faded into the corners

Of our minds

 

Nostalgic memories

Cannot reincarnate

Or compensate

For the love

We’ve left behind

 

Yet still

I search

Trying to catch

The shadowy pictures

That ricochet

Through the vignettes

Of time

 

Old flames

Die hard

When the children

Carry the same name.

When your blood runs

Through their veins

 

But the flint is wet

The wood has rotted

Life can never be

The same

Our fete

Was allotted

We have fulfilled

Our destiny

 

It’s the end

For you and me.

 

C.K. 22

 

 

 

 

 

🌷(5)

◄ The Humble Bumblebee

They Know ►

Comments

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Clare

Sun 3rd Apr 2022 20:36

Thanks to everyone for taking the time to read my ramblings and taking the time to tick like and/or comment.
John Botterill, don't you just love it when something poetic just rolls from the pen! 😊
John Marks, that may be the case in a lot of failed romances, but I assure you that in this case, it's only stone cold ashes.😌
Thanks, Ursula 💗

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John Marks

Sun 3rd Apr 2022 19:33

Do the embers reside in mind, heart, muscle-memory, all three?

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John Botterill

Wed 30th Mar 2022 22:00

Fabulous, Clare.
Loved " the shadowy pictures
That ricochet
Through the vignettes
Of Time."
Epic poetry!

<Deleted User> (32907)

Tue 29th Mar 2022 17:39

Nice poem, Clare.💗

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