Andrew Rose

Seasons Past

Shy waves,
a collateral sea,
each lap
and your further from me,

To distant shores,
we never wanted to know,
I hope you’ll remember me
passing with the new snow,

An ancient wind
soaring on high,
Cliché i know,
you still walk right on by,

Icy waves,
they touch the sky,
buried,
a forgotten love,
an echoed lie

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, October 9, 2008

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Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening



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