My beloved's face has haunted me night after night;
Many were the moments I spent eluding sleep
Many were the words I wrote on white sheets
And wordlessly, I often did weep.
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Lovely rendering, both of feelings and of words. Memory is cruel at times.
A world can be written in one person's face. If morning finds you by the same windowsill, it is where your heart tells you to be.Beautiful and poignant. A poem worthy of the name. Love, Sandra