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Fallen Flame.
What hope for me
this sorry spirit bound
where lie's the spark
of filtered essence found.
What hope the heart
with rhythmic heat
to throb the verse so used:
where muse and lover meet.
What hope for life
in breath this day,
indeed the want of life itself
does this broken, time betray.
Bittersweet
beautifully woven work. ~A~
Thank you very much :-) Sue x
Thank you very much :-) Sue x