
These are my words
Still filled with longing
Yet no longer fueled by passion
These are my words
Hard and cruel to silence your lies
You the fair haired boy
I the dark maiden
These are my words
Strong the spell now broken
When I listen to yours
There is only the occasional dream
A shadow song
A field on a summer day
And the passing of time
K. Pilapovich
:image here

![[20081116181401.jpg]](../../../2.bp.blogspot.com/_Nf4JRVgqGyU/SZWfbmeIyhI/AAAAAAAAA0A/Oy_HkYlAGJQ/s1600/20081116181401.jpg)



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2 comments:
what a beautiful poem. so moving and interesting, i need to start writing poems again. just love the picture at the top of the post. there is something so beautiful and amazing about running through fields. it feels like your part of nature in a weird way. its hard to explain.
Love, love that photo!
I was certainly glad to get to the end of the poem and see that someone else wrote it, as I would hate to see you experiencing that in your life.
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