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A Moment’s Stain

10 Apr

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Hard pressed would I be to render
the wiles of her unaccounted ways;
for of all the moments we shared,
they were but vague, seasonal plays.

None but the boldest of roguish men
could dare approach and be well met;
but with slightest touch of my hand,
she was won by my heart as ’twas let.

I was not privy to her intimate fluency,
as we merely talked of wisdoms shared;
that hers was as much to her past trials,
as mine was merely the thoughts I dared.

Tho’ ours was the briefest of encounters,
but an hour or more sheltered from rain;
she left an impression on me, unrivaled,
that thru’ the years became indelible stain.

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Posted by on April 10, 2016 in My Poetry

 

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