(Un)lived Days

Quiet guitar, the voices of your strings

Cannot whisper anymore. Life’s been so silent

Between these lilac walls

.

Watercolors, unfinished letters…

Poems written

Seventy years ago, but recently found

In a distant bookstore

.

Sing my memories… Sing again. Once

At least.

Sing for the life unlived.

Sing our life to be

For a passing moment of confused inspiration

When these hands find the imperfect chord

.

ML

.

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8 thoughts on “(Un)lived Days

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