John F. McCullagh
For years it was the seat of Love;
an all-consuming fire.
Eros was his guiding light
to which his thoughts aspired.
His words have touched so many hearts,
a master of his art.
But now his heart is silent
but not his Heart’s desire.
For, surely, one who loved so well
lives on an astral plane.
I cast my verses and my pen
With Shakespeare in the grave
And pray the Lord his soul to keep
While we his music save.
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Comments about this poem (Heart’s Desire by John F. McCullagh )
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