November 2, 2009


©Phil Chaplin

blurry eyes and stunted vision, the picture becomes skewed
what seemed to be the clear path appears to be obstructed
sifting through the debris of this chosen route, the path towards one
carefully wary of whats ahead and whats been left in the dust and rubble

voices carry through the darkness and the lit tunnel ahead seems to dim
"its time to grow up now" she says in a whisper
the dove flys by again one last time as the golden light turns blue
"can't we dance just a little longer, this songs not quite through"?

she waves goodbye with a backward glance knowing that we will meet again
that vision burned into the minds eye forever bringing back the same smile
the warmth of that embrace, the gentle touch as we go our seperate ways
soon and always, til next time my love

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