The Wall



Feral roses in all hues,

atop a broken stone wall,

clinging vines of color,

the way that I recall.


Summer days at twelve years old,

held in times embrace,

climb the weeping willow tree,

ever the eternal scapegrace.


In fields of buttered flowers,

I gently cupped your face,

between young trembling hands,

a single kiss was placed.


Autumn now fades to winter,

lace crystal snowflakes fly,

memories held within my heart,

a kiss that was never goodbye.












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