The past

The past

A Poem by scarecrow29

Aeons passed before we'd meet again
I'd miss her, feel the hurt and pain,
Then we'd see each other, her and me,
She'd say hello, her voice to me, like honey.

The days together, like wildfire,
the days not, like a chilly winter.
 

© 2013 scarecrow29


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Added on September 7, 2013
Last Updated on September 7, 2013

Author

scarecrow29
scarecrow29

India



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