Old Loves
Many the people I have known
a few who were once loved with hot passion,
most insubstantial shadows lost in time
a few remembered well and most fondly.
As for me, am I remembered too?
If so, with fondness left lingering?
or by other less salubrious thoughts?
Where did they end up these ghosts of mine?
Some, just a brief fling, then on
to pastures not always any greener
with the same every day strife's
that tear and weaken the fabric.
Love always arrives most joyously
fanfare heralds it in the door
Yet just as fast it flees in the dark
Leaving the remnants behind to pick over
To truly love is a perfect gift
granted only to a precious few
empowering them as it laps over them
so I say to long ago loves, Be Happy
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