Wednesday, October 15, 2008


So despair, my old friend
that we have met again upon my lost love and stem.
Thus pile your frosts heavy upon my bough;
for it can be no more weight than my heart bears now,
and drive your snows up my trunk in vain
that there is not enough cold to numb this pain.
And let your northern winds sing their songs forsaken,
they are merely the sounds of this ones
- Heart breaking.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2003

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