The oceans gray, reflective past.
Losing first, trailing last.
The summers eve, nights well spent.
Her floral dress, lavender scent.
Inside, timid child, a grown man's plight.
These memories flow, so easy with thought.
Our lovers- broken embrace, the friends we've fought.
So now I dine alone, with sadness heavy.
Reminiscent songs, my suicide ready.
With a single bullet, my name now wrote...
'Live with a purpose.'
My dying quote.
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Comments about this poem (Looking Back by Anthony James )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(22 March 1941 -)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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