Gordon Edmands Myers

Yet Again

I stand firm in this field of desolation
Waiting for a blithe replication
But it seems that this wait is eternal
And as time goes on and on
These tides of anguish sing their song
Chilling through my heart's meek inferno
And as solemnity ices my breath
I cling steadfastly on to death
Wishing that she would understand
But yet again she whisks away
So far off into the gray
So I wait for her, in this void land.

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