A Piece composed of Memories, so tender, so warm,

That I trusted in security yet I shunned when in fear.

I hid it away lest these things would all haunt me,

These stinging short memories I once held so dear.


Now in it’s hiding-place it stays forever in Youth,

Forever a Bookmark in a Tale, old as time.

But it seems that this Story has not come to an end,

In fact it seems barely into it’s prime.


So I pick up my pen and add another passage of Life,

To put space between Me and that heart-breaking End.

My small book of Stories, a tale of You & I,

Maybe someday you’ll read it, maybe one day…


My Friend.


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