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by Skeeter 

Posted: 28 July 2003
Word Count: 111
Summary: a sonnet

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Desolate is the hour, barren my heart,
That once beat close to yours and now is dead.
Empty my soul, as happiness departs,
Gone all my joys, in tears these eyes have bled.
Let the gathering fingers of time clutch
My wasting mind, take the indifferent day,
And cast them to cold oblivion. There, such
Dear dreams I had are laid. Life slips away.
Life slips away and nothing can replace
The hope unborn that falters in the breast
And fails. A song unheard, love untaken.
Your tender touch, your searing smile, your face,
Haunt me. I am grieving, but listening lest
Your voice calls to me, the lost, forsaken.

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Comments by other Members

Anna Reynolds at 13:45 on 24 August 2003  Report this post
This is lovely. The repetition of 'life slips away' really works well to enhance the sense of desolation, and 'your searing smile' is wonderful. A really tender, truthful portrait of grief.

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