Poetry

That Last Letter

By 10th September 2009December 9th, 2019No Comments

If you should wake to hear I’m dead
Regret words spoken, words unsaid.
Let every day, for you, be blessed
Within the darkness there is rest.
We all are slaves to passing time
We move a little down the line…
What matters most is here and now
The dappled sunlight on a flower.
Like an angel fallen from the sky
The perfumed wings of a butterfly.
Silver darlings shimmering in the lake
Those silhouettes past kings would make.
All passing, now, as if, a dream
Of what our love must once have been.

Robert Carson

Author Robert Carson

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