For these days made of nought but the past
I weep and mourn for what? A dream of love?
Long dead, yet wickedly alive, a spell was cast.
From the grave arises a turtledove.
A fortress of hope built by my hands, alas!
Yet urgently calls as if sent from above
A castle built of air that holds me fast
Deliver me from what could have been but never was.
As life's fond dew embraces the gentle morn
May this day, I pray, be free of worldly woe.
And happiness return to me, and not forlorn
May I think of you never and suffer no more.
The memories I keep and treasure will sing
of perfect union and golden moments divine.
But may the sadness of yesterday take wing
and leave for us blessings of kindness behind.
I weep no more for you, sweet ghost of has-been.
Haunt me no longer so that I may call you friend.
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