Bittersweet Poem by David Blake
Bittersweet
Nothing more than a swing in my mode,
you are but a receptacle to me. Sour
and sweet the thing I claim not to do,
mysteries and memories sand and
shame. Shapeless figures moving
slowly toward the end of another day
only to be reborn tomorrow. Unafraid
of the things you told me, I know no one
will ever love my like you do.
Monday, February 11, 2008
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5/12/2024 3:42:32 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Ah Love, seems you are plugged into the right receptacle