Ghosts Poem by Lawson Brookes
Ghosts
Oh, Witch!
Of yesteryear:
Your Ghost..
It beckons ...still.
Beckons:
With passion
Ere not spent;
But lost, in time.
To think:
A nectar'ed cup of love
Was filled;
Yet, ne'er e'en sipped.
Loyalties ... forbade it.
The courageous years:
Made cowards
Of us ...
Again, we may meet:
...Who knows...?
The 'Ghosts'
Of yet another year:
May...
Be...
As...
ONE?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 9:30:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
