On almost sunny afternoons
A quiet heart is free to muse
On questions unasked
Sighs that fill those spaces
Between Fear and Knowing
All that has ransomed our plans
Where weaker minds and youthful
Dreams went unexplored
That land of weeping
Now swept with a fog
A rolling heaviness
Almost romantic
Books closed, tea unsipped
Pretty hands folded neatly on chintz
Naked fingers curl round
Some phantom we almost grasped.
And a deeper pain
A quieter pain
Spills tears, and goes silent.
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