Memory

Memory by Helen Hoyt

 

I can remember our sorrow, I can remember our laughter;

I know that surely we kissed and cried and ate together;

I remember our places and games, and plans we had-

The little house and how all came to nought-

Remember well;

But I cannot remember our love,

I cannot remember our love.

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About thelastminstrel

Carpenter, very minor poet and writer, history buff, frustrated prospector, singer, guitar player [I'm still trying to convince the guitar that I'm not going to hurt it] the most eclectic reader I know, second born of four brothers, father of two sons,-------

Posted on January 5, 2011, in Borrowed Rymes. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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