Remember, that old park bench
Sketched with our love memoir
Bearing symbols of our hearts
A relic signed with our names
Though rusted now with time
Our young love still glitters
Under the shadow of choices
That tore our lives asunder
I know you prefer to move on
The spark dead in your eyes
I like to travel back in time
Deep down the memory lane
To contemplate the reason
If those scratched words
Ever had any meaning!

Beautiful weaving.
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Thanks a lot for reading Kritika. I hope you are well and safe. ๐
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Welcome ๐
Yes. I am doing good. Hope you are well as well.
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Poignant, distant memories… all they will ever be…
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Thanks for reading and your comment ๐
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One of your best, my good friend! Singularly focused on the old symbols of love you weave a lovely story of love won and lost. Each moment is a wonderful reflection of what we see as the impermanence of the world around us. The form is free and flowing. A quiet narrative of introspection delivered with a ton of emotion. Well written, V!
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Thanks a lot for reading, Brad, and for your insightful comments, which always gives me a clear perspective of my work. I hope you are doing well, take care my friend ๐
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Beautiful and I love the image
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Thanks a lot for reading and your comments ๐ hope you are doing well
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Excellent poem with a sad ending ๐ค๐
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Thanks a lot for reading and commenting on my work. ๐
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Thanks for reading it and considering my work for reblogging
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Always a pleasure to read and share your posts with followers, My Friend!! Have a great day!
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